ThexGreatxAdventure
by Proteus Wei
Summary: They could neither fathom nor comprehend how the Boy-Who-Lived, Gryffindor and Hogwarts Golden Child and a key and highly talented Seeker in the Gryffindor Quidditch Team would throw it all away to pursue some high-risk job in the Muggle world. What are the Hunters? And why does Harry Potter want to be one of them instead of a wizard?
1. Chapter 1

[Authors Note]

 _ **Uni's been hard lately, so I decided to write this as a bit of a break from my other responsibilities. Isn't a one shot but not planning much for this unless anyone is incredibly interested.**_

 _ **Chapter's a bit all over the place but I've kind of accepted that that is my style atm. Though I made an effort to make it clear when each and everything happens in regards to everything else (something I didn't implement in Academia cause I didn't realise it was an issue) a Reviewer pointed it out to me there anyway so I guess this is a way for me to correct it.**_

 _ **Anyway, whatevs. Tell me what you think if you want, this is just a bit of a passion project that I'll add to on the fly.**_

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 _ **-CHAPTER START-**_

 _ **HunterXPotter**_

 _ **Chapter 1: The Hundredth Blow**_

 **[20** **th** **August 1994|12:31]**

The nigh-crippling waves of nausea and the aftereffects of Side Along Apparations (the deeply uncomfortable feeling of being shoved through a straw) couldn't even dent the victorious smirk that curved up Ron Weasley's lips. His father, sister and his older twin brothers brushing off dust and inhaling crisp air harshly to offset the nasty feelings of Apparation whilst Ron stood grinning ear to ear. Well, except for his dad Arthur Weasley, he was looking about the street as if he had been given a sneak peak of heaven that sunny August afternoon.

"Incredible!" He whispered in soft awe as he looked about himself, brown eyes wide as he slowly turned in a complete circle as he reviewed the houses around them, having gone so far as to Apparate onto the grey, sun-bleached concrete of Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey. The home of Ron's best mate Harry and his Muggle family.

"Boys, why didn't you tell me that it was like this?" Arthur inhaled gleefully as his wide, bright eyes took in the uniform, nigh identical houses up and down the street. White houses with dark rooves, flat, well-trimmed front gardens with neat little flowerbeds, "It's all so… quaint and compact. I can't believe Muggles keep their houses like this!"

"Believe it or not Dad," Fred smirked through his reply as he crossed and uncrossed his arms and looked about himself,  
"But the last time we came here," George rolled his shoulders back until they clicked, and he stretched out his back,  
"It was a wee bit dark." Fred chirped,

"And we were a wee bit high up." George chuckled.

Arthur's smile and starry-eyed gaze faltered after their joint reply, Ron's own smile faltering also as he winced at the memory. A quiet glare was shot to his deviously grinning elder brothers, a quiet beg and warning against the pair reminding their father of the loss of his beloved flying Ford Anglia, a more heated glare sent to their smug and smirking sister who undoubtedly was hoping for the opposite,

"How about we just go and get Harry?" Ginny surprised them by speaking up and bringing their dad back to the real world from within his Muggle obsessed stupor. His return to reality signified by an almost visible jolt (as if a stream of electricity had rattled through his system) that had him snap around to face magnetic North and march forward with a gigantic grin plastered on his face,

"Of course, Ginny! We're on a mission after all, to Number 4!" he declared exuberantly as his dark brown robes whooshed about him with every step he took. Fred and George responded with wordless cries of equal enjoyment as they scurried along behind, ensuring that if the crack of Apparation and the sudden appearance of a quintet of redheads hadn't drawn the locals attention their volume would. Ron and Ginny shuffled along behind them in stark embarrassment, the girls lips twisted into a grimace that reeked of regret. Ron contemplated what harm there would have been if they had just let their Muggle obsessed father sight see for a little while longer, as they smuggled Harry out of his relative's house.

"Well done, Gin." He huffed,

"Shut up Ron." She scowled.

Seven. Ginny, Ron (and to a MUCH lesser extent) alongside Fred and George had to wince and suffer through their father pressing the doorbell for Number 4 Privet Drive a grand total of seven whole times before the screeching of chairs and a slamming of a door hit their ears. The quartet wondering what behemoth lived within this building to make such a heavy sound when coming down the stairs, with Arthur smiling cordially as he stepped back and waited patiently for the door to open.

Emerging from behind the crisp white door with the golden number four was a walrus-esque being. Despite it having been dark, two years ago and the gigantic, bloated imitation of a human had been in navy blue, pinstriped pajamas; the sons present behind their grinning father immediately recognized the gentleman as Vernon Dursley. Even the cheery disposition of the eternally gleeful twins took a hit in the face of their friend's uncle, dominating the doorway with his ridiculous size as his small blue eyes took in the five of them and his bushy black moustache quivered and bristled like a thick caterpillar lying on his top lip,

"Can I help you?" False politeness, his question came after a silent yet blatant appraisal of the family as his stubbly fingers tightened on the door as his nostrils briefly curled up and he grimaced at them before schooling his face. Ginny and Ron glared whilst Arthur's smile failed to falter in the slightest (and should anyone have been watching them at that time, they would have seen a cold edge develop in the eyes of the cheerily grinning Fred and George),

"Hello there, sir. Am I correct in saying you're Vernon Dursley?" Arthur asked with politeness and cheer, Vernon's eyes narrowed in a little more suspicion as he responded with a curt (almost aggressive) 'Yes', "Lovely, my name is Arthur, these are my sons Ron, Fred and George and my daughter Ginny. We actually came to pick up Harry."

His rather red face seemed to morph quite quickly to purple as his glaring eyes seemed to narrow into slits, his knuckles turned white and his arm shook from his vicious grasp on the front door and his entire form radiated disgust and rage as he took them in. Ron sensed rather than saw the fist clenches of his brothers and the slow return of the glare by his sister in the suddenly, incredibly tense atmosphere,

"Oh. So, you're one of them."

That comment alone completely deflated Ron's mood, turning everything sour in his eyes and fully wiping the smile from his face as he visibly scowled back at the displeased Muggle man before them. Being referred to as 'them' with such a foul tone really brought attention to those offhand comments his best mate had made about how his Muggle family,

'aren't really fond of magic…'

"Is he here?" Ron piped up, beady eyes turned to him and his father looked over to him in surprise, "When I called on that phone-thingy I did say that we would be here in a couple of days, but I thought you'd want him gone as soon as possible."

"Ron!" His father snapped at his son's impertinence, but the boy kept talking,

"And I know he wouldn't want to be here any longer either." Ron let the ice flow through his tone, completely unperturbed by the deeper purple that the man's face transitioned to as he glared down at him like a fleshy mountain of malice. The boy's ear's flared pink then red under his gaze but he still nurtured the desire to deck Harry's uncle.

"Vernon, who's at the door?" A shrill female voice sliced through the air whilst Arthur tried to apologise for the rudeness of his son, Vernon called over his shoulder,

"Some of the freaks, Pet. They're here for the boy." Vernon's gaze left them briefly, missing the hate in the young one's eyes at being called 'freaks' but their dad took offense at something else,

"Well hang on. Where do you get off calling your nephew ' _boy'_?!" their father's genuine rage left the quartet with completely baffled expressions, not just at their father's words but also at the clear and present expression of fear on the Vernon Dursley's face. The bulbous man stood a head taller than their father and was clearly built a lot larger than their rake thin, greying father in his patched, secondhand robes. Baffling.

"The boy isn't here." The shrill voice again, closer this time. Stepping aside, as if that were his cue to move out of the way, Vernon revealed a stick thin woman in a yellow and blue sundress with an astonishingly long neck, "If you're taking him today just send him back to get his things and don't come back."

"W-We don't want any of you… funny business near our family and our home." Vernon piped up from beside his wife, obviously regaining his confidence in the face of the irritated wizard. Though, Arthur didn't seem to be placated at all, arms crossed and an unimpressed expression on his face that Ginny took as HER cue to cut in before they got into a row with on the intolerant Dursley families doorstep,

"If he's not here, could you please tell us where to find him?" She stepped around her father and drew the couple's attention to her, weathering their scowls and disdain with a polite smile whilst she wished death upon them from inside her head. The woman huffed and the man scowled, Ginny's ears flared red as she prepared to be a little less polite,

"The sooner you tell us,"  
"The sooner we'll leave." The twins, piping up with smiles that would be more than welcome on the face of the Devil, an appropriate pair of terrified expressions appeared on the faces of the recipients as the two visibly and blatantly fingered their wands as and after they spoke.

"The dump!" The woman, the five of them then registering her as Harry's aunt Petunia, "He's been down at the dump with that woman all day."

"Now leave us be and never return!" Vernon barked out a scared order and slammed the door in the face of the Weasley's, the lot of them jumping some what at the sudden harsh sound and left reeling for a few seconds while they registered the information they had received.

"Should we knock and tell em that we don't know where the dump is?" Fred spoke first without looking away from the door,  
"That would probably annoy them much further." Arthur sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and rolling his head back with a sigh. A pregnant pause appeared

"So… will you be getting the doorbell, dear brother? Or will I?" George inquired and smirked with Fred even making a move to do so, but their father snapped about to face the road again and decided to just stride up to the pavement away from Number Four.

"Let's just… leave them. Come on, we need to find directions or a map." He called out, some cheer returning to his tone as he took off down the street. Ginny was quick to trot along, Ron followed suit after one last loathing glare at the house in question and Fred and George only started jogging along when the three of them were nearly out of sight. Leaving a small, innocuous looking package on their doorstep addressed to the couple's son with harsh, devious little grins splitting their face as they ran along.

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 **[20** **th** **August 1994|13:09]**

About thirty minutes later, after an awkward conversation with an elderly lady through her front door (said door cracked only slightly open as she leaned about to hold the conversation, occasionally shifting her leg back to shove at the loudly meowing cats trying to escape), a sharp trundling bus ride that had Arthur muttering about how quaint Muggle public transport was in comparison to the Knight Bus and a bit of a trek through a far less picturesque part of Little Whinging than Privet drive, the five representatives of the scarlet haired Weasley clan arrived at the plot of land dedicated to the Little Whinging Landfill. Dusty litter laden paths cut between piles on piles of rubbish that reached

If the identical houses and gardens of Little Whinging had excited the father of the Weasley's, the expression of sheer RAPTURE that burst across his face at the incredible heaving towers and mounds of rubbish and the discarded made his previous expression look like disappointment.

"Is that a car? A WHOLE CAR?!" Arthur squealed, voice high as his brown eyes glittered. Jabbing fingers at the red chassis of a minivan sat atop a veritable mountain of yellowed, moldy mattresses, "These Muggles are crazy. Look over there! Those are those DVD things, a whole box of them!"

Their father flitting back and forth between item after item was something Fred and George watched with barely concealed hilarity. Meanwhile Ginny and Ron were wrinkling their nose at the oppressive stench and looking about at the mess,

"Why would Harry be here of all places?" Ron whined as he turned his gaze to the direction of the vicious bangs and crashes that his dad had simply brushed off as Muggle equipment,

"Do you think they lied?" Ginny questioned as she too turned towards the noise, crashes of glass quite clear to the ear as she crossed her arms and looked towards it too. Suspicion and confusion on her face as their father marvelled at a sack of dirty basketballs, "What even is that?"

"Well Ginny, Muggles have big metal contraptions that they use to sort out all of their rubbish after it's been dumped in places like this." Arthur turned to them after ushering the twins away from the DVD's he had mentioned before, an odd blush reddening his cheeks as he refused to let them look in, "Muggles apparently have this odd system where they separate some of the rubbish to be reused and made into other products that they can use again."

"I heard that on another continent they have a whole city like this." Ron supplied to an already incredulous Ginny as he looked around for a person or at least a clue, directions to his best friend would be appreciated but were not forthcoming. "I here it's run by the mafia or something like that."

They looked to their father for confirmation, but he was crouched down to get a better view at an intricate golden coloured portrait frame. The silent question forgotten as they spread out to look around for themselves.

"So, how are we going to find our boy Harry then?" Fred and George asked simultaneously, and the group were left with pensive expressions. Until…

A smack like a thunderclap hit the Weasley's ears where it was quickly followed by a heavy WHOOSH of air buffeted past them, a dark blur flying past at breakneck speed.

BANG! A vicious slam of something hard and large smashed into the red vehicle Arthur had been so lovingly regarding a few moments before. The crunch and groan of metal and the shattering of glass had wands drawn and terrified expressions plastered onto the faces of the five red heads as they turned to the minivan seeking answers at what on earth had just happened.

To find the one they were looking for, Harry James Potter, extracting himself from the wreckage with a wince and a snarl. Sans glasses but dressed in a white vest, black shorts and matching trainers as he glared past them (likely not even seeing them) to where he had flown from.

"H-Harry?" Ginny gasped out as he staggered free of the mess, swiping off shattered shards of glass and rolling his shoulders,

"Bloody hell, Harry mate, are you alright?"

There was a blur of motion, one second Harry was gasping in heavy (slightly pained breaths) right in front of them and the next he was gone. Vanished from sight with a torrent of displaced air buffeting the family as he breezed past them far faster than anything they had ever seen. Gone but an impact like a cannon firing from the east (the direction he had flown in from) acting as some clue as to where he had gone.

Ron bolted after his friend after the briefest of time had passed, following the path scoured through the dust and dirt towards the area where the colossal racket originated from. His family quick to follow in that direction, confusion and concern etched onto five faces as they followed a winding path for a few minutes before reaching some kind of clearing in the rubbish.

The area was colossal, the kids registering that the flat area clear of nearly all rubbish (with towering piles and mounds marking a loose border around the area) were occupied by three things.

The first was a black board. The black surface held within a pale wooden frame held up on two legs that balance on small, black, plastic wheels. Complete with ghost white chalk and what must have been Harry's glasses sitting on a miniscule shelf with its black surface dominated by a veritable sea of tally marks.

The next two couldn't really be classified as things, that was entirely inaccurate. They were people. Two people, quite clearly, locked in blisteringly fast and aggressive combat with one combatant quite clearly head and shoulders above the other.

The superior of the two was a woman, and she was one of the most beautiful women the five had ever had the pleasure of seeing. Golden hair shimmered in the sunlight as it hung long and elegant down at her hips, silky and glorious. Her thin frame, long legs, petite chest and shining peach skin were draped in a small sundress that ended just past her knees. Her bare feet tapped, stepped and danced about as she swatted, kicked and battered away at her attacker with a gleeful grin and a lilting, bell like laugh and teasing words of encouragement with a voice as sweet as honey,

"Come on my darling, you only need one more." She grinned with white teeth as she swept a strand of golden hair behind her pointed left ear. All whilst she snatched her kicking opponent ankle out of the air, twirled like a ballerina and hurled him into the distance with a serene smile on her face that spoke of nothing but glee and pride. Seconds later, the black and white blur lunged back at a speed beyond the redhead's comprehension, the woman's pale blemishless arms blurring through the air as her attackers flung fists and kicks seared through the air at comparable speed.

It went without saying that the second individual was obviously Harry.

Taking a second to look away, Ginny returned her gaze to the blackboard wondering if there was any correlation. The tally marks took some counting, but her final verdict was ninety-nine after some soft deliberation as Harry flipped and smacked away at the woman, blurring and hopping around as she intercepted with vicious chops, strikes and kicks and the occasional throw that hurled their friend many feet away into different piles of rubbish and mess with equally explosive force as earlier. Only for him to return and slam back at her completely unperturbed.

The wildest part of this situation, beyond the blistering speed of the vicious battle in the Muggle landfill was the savage strength of the blows slamming into Harry. Not because of the vicious slaps and slams against Harry's skin that sent him hurtling away, more the fact that he would be up on his feet and launching himself back into action (from what should have been beyond lethal blows) as if he were only mildly inconvenienced. A fiery determination burning in his emerald gaze.

"W-What the bloody hell is going on here?!" Ron hissed out, his family silently sharing the sentiment with his father far too baffled to reprimand him for his language. Wondering what the context was behind this incredibly wild situation…

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 **[22** **nd** **July 1994|16:33]**

Raucous laughter lost and insignificant in the general, bustling noise of King's Cross Station. A few glares of impatience or irritation were thrown in the direction of the rambunctious group laughing, joking and weaving a way through the crowd on their way to the exit. A portly woman in a smoothly ironed red smock and a well worn beige cardigan trotted along at the back with a content and serene smile warming her face as she took in the children with her, sharing the same furious fiery orange hair as five of the group she supervised. The first, a girl who looked to be a younger, thinner spitting image of the woman, regaling her mother excitedly with a tale whilst sneaking small looks and shy smiles at one of the boys ahead. A boy, likely better to call him a young man, stood rigid and tall as he strode beside a girl a head taller with pretty blonde hair that reached her mid back who was hanging on every word he said. The next were identical twins, one was snickering and adding small jabs at a shorter, freckled boy who could only be a younger brother whilst the second was whistling a tune and looking about him boredly. Molly, Ginny, Percy, Fred, George and Ron Weasley were walking away from the magically hidden train platform 9 ¾ after another year at Hogwarts school of Withcraft and Wizardry. Accompanied by Percy's girlfriend Penelope Clearwater and the youngest son of the families two best friends, the bushy haired brunette with slightly pronounced front teeth, Hermione Granger and the national, wizarding celebrity, Harry Potter, who was in a heated "discussion" with Ron about a Quidditch match from the day before. Backed up by Fred who had a copy of the Daily Prophet in hand with 'A Tragic Defeat: England Loses 390 - 10 to Transylvania' in thick black script on the front page,

"I'm telling you it was just a fluke." Ron exclaimed huffily as they walked, shoving along a silver luggage trolley that his things were resting precariously on and occasionally shooting wary glares at the miniature, hyperactive owl Pigdwidgeon who hopped and bounced gleefully in his tiny cage, "England just had a bad game, and Transylvania were knocked out of the competition in the next match. We could have bloody beaten Nigeria, they're a shocking team!"

"You're delusional if you think that was a fluke little brother." Fred laughed as his black-haired teammate nodded along, "You've got the face the facts, England's just a bad team."

"It was fluke!" Ron shouted but Harry cut in quite quickly before his friend could launch into another longwinded explanation or excuse,

"Nah mate. That match was Transylvania smacking us around for twenty-four goals, their keeper letting us have the one and then their seeker just decided to put us out of our misery." Harry Potter declared with a pearly, joking grin, hands linked behind his head as they walked through the crowd and laughed out, "Mate, England tanked, and it is NO surprise."

"Frisby let the side down." Fred shook his head in disappointment as he slipped the folded copy of the Daily Prophet under his shoulder and synced up with his brother's jaunty tune. The pair whistling away as they hopped and skipped along,

"So, have England ever won the world cup before?" Hermione piped up with a curious question as she cut a path through the crowd with her luggage trolley. Her flat faced cat Crookshanks mewing as they trundled along as he licked away at his orange paws,

"Have England won the world cup? Have they bollocks." Ron rolled his eyes and shook his head in clear defeat. The boys seemingly satisfied and victorious as they emerged from the bulk of the crowd and made their way out into the street.

Harry's sharp green eyes found his family and they radiated an air of disappointment yet steely resolve from behind his thick glasses,

"Well, that's me over there." Harry jerked his head to his impatiently waiting uncle, "I guess I'll be seeing you in September."

With that there began a long period of goodbyes. Hugs, back slaps and handshakes abound, Ron told Harry that they would ty and get him from the Dursley's so they could see the Quidditch World Cup together. Then Hermione streaked off to the left to her smiling and waving parents, the Weasley's crossed the carpark to start their trek to the Leaky Cauldron (for a quick Floo back to the Burrow) and Harry ambled reluctantly over to his scowling Uncle.

"You took your time." Vernon's scathing comment as he scowled down at his raven-haired nephew, glaring at the unapologetic youth whose defiant gaze met his,

"I know you just think they're freaks, but they're my friends. So, I had to make sure to say goodbye properly." Harry said stiffly, though a small half smirk tugged at his lip as he sarcastically added, "Aren't you happy that you're waste of a nephew is at the very least polite."

Vernon's lips thinned, his face reddened in anger as he snarled down at the boy,

"Where are your bloody things? And that bloody pest of a bird?" He snapped, noting that despite his friends having pushed along their trunks and pet carriers on the provided trolley's, Harry had walked along sans everything.

"In my pocket." Harry supplied with pouty lips that he refused to allow to split into a massive grin (despite the incredible urge) at his Uncle's fury at the mere insinuation of magic as he clocked his meaning, "And I sent Hedwig ahead to hunt. She'll arrive this evening."

Calming himself a bit, Vernon's stance and tone became authoritative as he shoved out his hand,

"Give them here then." He ordered, and Harry fished out the two things from his pocket, the owl cage that looked almost like a decorative key chain (with the thin chain atop it to allow it to hang from the ceiling) and his deep brown trunk which had been shrunk to the size of a matchbox. Harry dropped them into his uncle's hand flippantly though his accompanying smirk did give the man pause, "What are you smirking at?"

"Well, I was just imagining those two suddenly growing massive because they've been away from me too long. They'd give you a proper fright when they burst out of your pocket whilst we're on the road." Harry grinned impishly whilst his sharp uncle went from confused and apprehensive to fearful and almost a bit furious,

"What have you done you brat?"  
"Absoloutely nothing. But spells only really work if they have magic to feed on to stay active. So, with those having been shrunk with-"

"ENOUGH!" Vernon's shout drew attention to him which paled his purple face as head turned, leading to speak in a voice nary louder than a whisper, "Don't you say that word around me boy. Just take the blasted things, I don't want anything to do with whatever freakishness you've put on them."

Having successfully blagged his way into keeping his trunk with him, Harry had to suppress an even bigger smile as he accepted them back and slipped them back into the pocket of his jeans. Vernon somehow seemed both skeptical and outraged but he miraculously didn't press the subject any further. Simply jerking to the back of the car with a stubby thumb and making his way to the driver's side of the silver car, Harry surprised to find neither Petunia or Dudley inside but knew better than to ask his Uncle anything, instead settling in as they eventually rolled out of the carpark and weaved into London traffic.

"This will be the last summer I spend with you." Harry said as they rolled onto the A roads nearly an hour later, not bothering to see his Uncle's reaction as he watched all manner of automobiles whiz back and forth past his window, "The Weasley's will probably come and get me midway through next month, then I won't be coming back."

"What are you blathering on about back there, boy." His uncle seemed to be making an effort to keep his voice in its usual abrasive tone but couldn't quite hide an undercurrent of hopefulness. Harry wondered if he really was a freak, as he cared so little about his Uncle's clear desire to finally be rid of them, perhaps it was just that the feeling was mutual, and he wasn't a closet sociopath, "Speak boy!"

Harry let a small scowl rest on his face but shook his head, turning his eyes to find his Uncle's in the mirror and did as he was told,

"I've got enough money saved to move out now, and the likelihood to make quite a bit more if my plan is successful." Harry folded his arms and curiously watched the widening then aggressive narrowing of his uncle's eyes,

"Oh, so you've been hoarding cash and making us pay for everything for you?!" Harry's snort seemed to be ignored as Vernon launched into a rant, "And what, at fourteen years old, you're going to just spit in the face of your aunt and I? After we took you in, gave you food to eat and clothes to wear and have raised you-"

Harry laughed. Humourless, bitter, loud. He stopped his Uncle's tirade as he released peal after peal and had to wipe tears from the corner of his eyes and steady his breathing,

"Aww, Uncle Vernon! After all this time do you finally care about me?" His voice sugary sweet and condescending, turning his Uncle's face purple in fury as he laughed again, "Is this your way of saying you'll miss me if I leave?"

"You little shit!"

Vernon turned in his seat and made a sort lunge at his nephew, pushed to the point where his beefy fingers cut through the space between them to reach him. His hand evidently seeking to strike, grab or strangle the boy as the boy arched away and the car began to veer and lurch about,

"Pay attention to the road or you'll kill both of us." Harry hissed out in fear as his fingers dug into the leather seats, heart lunging into his throat as the car swerved towards the guardrail and only settling down a bit when Vernon panickedly corrected the vehicle and kept wide blue eyes on the road ahead as he sweat an ocean onto his seat, "Jesus Christ."  
"Watch your mouth, freak!"

"Keep your attention on the bloody road!" Harry snapped and Vernon, despite a brief murderous glare into the mirror at him, did as instructed. A vicious, murderous tension permeating the air for the rest of the ride back to Little Whinging and only one other exchange being made,

"What are you even going to do anyway, when you leave and make this fortune of yours?" Vernon's words were just as condescending as Harry's earlier ones, though Harry's disinterest failed to get the rise from him that it had from the older man, "Did you get some freak job with your kind?  
"No, I didn't. I'm doing it in the 'real world'." Harry sighed out as he rested his cheek against the cool glass and closed his eyes, feeling his uncles expectant gaze and growing irritation,

"Well speak then you brat. What are you doing?" He snapped, "Don't think I'm going to let you run off and do anything foul or illegal that will look bad on my family."

"I promise that should I succeed I have no doubt you and Aunt Petunia will be vaulted as saints or legends." Harry smirked as he just felt his Uncle scowl and vibrate in anger once again,

"Tell me what you are running off to do you brat!"

The smirk dropped. Harry's eyes snapped open and back to the mirror at the front of the car with a frightening intensity, almost freezing Vernon Durlsey solid in his under their weight before Harry spoke in a low, firm and determined tone,

"I'm going to take the Hunter's Exam."

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 **[23** **rd** **July 1994|09:15]**

The bus trundling through the streets of Little Whinging contained so few people this morning. Stunning Harry as he quietly sat at the back and peered carelessly out of the window. He smiled at the cloudless blue of the sky and pinched his eyes shut when the sun leaped out from behind the back of a building. Humming a Weird Sisters melody under his breath as the smattering of pensioners, other teens and other commuters in the bus busied themselves in their seats. The woman in the soft grey blouse and the pencil skirt was hissing obscenities at whoever was on the other side of the phone. The white-haired couple behind her had dozed off, shoulders and heads touching as they breathed softly and contently (unperturbed by the noise of the bus or the jolt of the journey). A trio of dark haired boys (supervised by a hawk-eyed parent sat a few seats in front of them) were comparing some kind of brown backed trading cards with excited, rambunctiousness, their volume bordering on shouting and their arms and hands flying about in exaggerated gestures. Leaving a few of the other riders to scowl in their direction whilst Harry smirked wistfully at the back of the bus as he ignored them, his thoughts were elsewhere. Despite being 'home for the summer' his mind still remained in Hogwarts (his real home), as far back as prior to Christmas as he rolled further and further towards his location…

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 **[19** **th** **December 1993|22:30]**

Harry swung his legs back and forth through the cold air of the dark classroom as he sat on a dusty abandoned teachers desk. Though he would often wonder why the school had so many empty, unused classrooms, he counted himself fortunate that he was able to find himself one so late that wasn't occupied by snogging Hogwarts students or mass murderer Sirius Black. Who, thanks to his infiltration into the school and his attack against the Fat Lady (and his evident yet unseen presence around the Hogsmeade area), had left a multitude of staff members and students keeping an eye on him. He was Black's target after all.

And as comforting and flattering as it was that so many people were fretting and worrying about his safety with every step he took through the castle (he felt a bit guilty for this) but the constant attention and mothering was aggravating.

He thanked whatever deity that was watching over him for the existence of the Invisibility Cloak, snickering a bit at the possible panic some of his more annoying 'guardians' would have been in if they pulled back his curtains and found out he wasn't in bed. Though that quickly faded when he registered how unnecessarily cruel that was, especially as thoughts of a worried Hermione and Ron invaded his brain to add another layer of guilt.

He sighed as he lay back on the firm desk to stair up at the ceiling, a harsh sneeze echoing in the dark room as Harry watched the dust motes dance above him in the pale moonlight from the small windows. His mind wasn't in that room that night, it was two days in the past as he lay in reminiscence.

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 **[17** **th** **December 1993|14:30]**

A career meeting at thirteen may seem counter intuitive or odd for those raised in the world of Muggles. However, considering that this was the academic year where Hogwarts students decided exactly what they would be studying for their external exams two years later, it made a little bit of sense to have students spend about ten to fifteen minutes with their head of house to talk about their elective courses and give them one last chance to change their minds.

As Fred, George and Oliver had told him, it could be more accurately referred to as an elective meeting, talking about your grades and giving him info about the other electives to see whether he felt like switching. Then a quick chat at the end to see if he has any idea what he wants to do as a job.

"To be clear Mr Potter, anything said or agreed on in this meeting does not have to be set in stone." She had said, allegedly comforting words delivered with her usual stern tone, "This is just a talk to see if you would prefer changes in your electives for the upcoming academic year."

"Ok Professor."

"Good." Professor McGonagall, draped in her satin, emerald robes and her jet black and crooked pointed hat atop her head of onyx hair, her slender hands ruffled through thin sheets of parchment as she oozed her stern, no nonsense attitude as she peered through small circular glasses at the inked page.

"You have averaged an Exceeds Expectations across the board in your subjects, you have shown considerably high degree of work in your practical spell work." She nodded as she read before peering into Harry's eyes from over the top of her own spectacles, "Your grades are consistently high in Charms, Defense and my own class."  
Harry felt a ghost of pride or appreciation at that and he couldn't help but flush and fidget further in his seat, though he felt her expression harden slightly before she spoke again,

"However, you are quite clearly found lacking in Herbology, History of Magic and of course Potions." Harry flinched, and his eyes narrowed slightly at the mention of his least favourite subjects, particularly the last one, "I understand you have had your… disagreements with Professor Snape and you have not achieved higher that and Acceptable in that subject which is a clear dissonance from the majority of your courses."  
"It's because Snape has it in for me." Harry spoke up heatedly but flinched and quieted down under McGonagall's suddenly hard glare,

"Professor Snape, Mr Potter." She corrected sternly before leaning back with a straight back, "And whether that is true or not and Professor Snape's alleged bias is affecting your grades, your OWL's are an external exam so at the very least you can expect an unbiased examination of your skills in the subject."

"In two years time?" Harry's delivery was flat and unimpressed, McGonagall seemed momentarily irritated but also sighed and allowed a ghost of a half-smile to show some kind of understanding or defeat,

"Please keep the cheek to yourself, Mr Potter." She smirked and then flipped through the parchment with the occasional thoughtful hum and Harry sat by awaiting his Head of House's.

"Now, I remember you had certain… issues with our own eccentric Divination Professor." There was some clear snide and disrespect in her tone, reminding Harry of his Head of House's clear disdain of Professor Trelawney and her morbid gimmick of predicting his death (and those of other students), "And there have been some difficulties in Care for Magical Creatures."

A reminder of Hagrid and Buckbeak's current situation lead to gritted teeth and balled fists in his lap, determination burning through his veins as he took a steadying breath,

"I don't have any problems with my electives. As… interesting as Professor Trelawny is, the ability to see into the future is probably one of the most interesting and immediately practical things I can think of that we've been taught. No offence Professor."

Her expression didn't change so he assumed (hoped) she hadn't taken offence so continued,

"And Care looks like it will be really useful for the job I want to do." Harry smiled, reminded of the guilty endorphin explosion that rushed through his system at the fact that he had another reason to actually take that course in the first place besides the fact that Hagrid was his professor and that it was an 'allegedly' easy O. McGonagall's eyes widened slightly, and she leaned forward in her seat with a curious air,

"Ah, so you do have a career path in mind?" Harry noted a lack of surprise behind her glasses at the question, though he himself was surprised that he had let that slip. Regardless, Harry allowed a small smile to his lips and a soft nod,

"Mmm hmm, I'm going to become a Hunter." Harry stated proudly, smiling with bright green eyes behind his big round glasses. Bright eyes that were quick to note the stark shock on his Transfiguration Professor's face at his declaration,

"A Hunter? You want to be… a Hunter?"

"It's not what you think, Professor. In the Muggle world it's a-"

"I know what the Hunter occupation is, Mr Potter. I was stunned that such an occupation would be something that would interest you." The interruption was quick and accompanied by a raised hand silently ordering her student to pause, "I am more than knowledgeable of the Muggle world and many of its various job opportunities.

She visibly searched for words and Harry, never knowing his Head of House to be so visibly indecisive, waited politely for her to speak again,

"Before the war…" She froze for a short while, the woman quite clearly lost in reminiscence as Harry patiently yet curiously waiting for her to continue, "I did have a husband. He was a Muggle. It caused quite the stir in the higher levels of the Ministry for the sake of secrecy, I learned much of the world through him."

She paused for breath and Harry was left in a speechless. He felt a bit embarrassed for not considering that his Head of House had a life outside of the castle, let alone a married one, but then he made note of her use of the past tense and a well of sympathy bubbled forth,

"The pity isn't required, Mr Potter. Though it is appreciated." His Deputy Head spoke up and Harry flushed slightly but offered a weak smile in return to her genuine, appreciative smile that briefly softened her face. She cleared her throat, "He mentioned having taken the Hunter exam in his youth and the risk to his life. But I feel that you are aware of that?"

"I am, Professor." He empathetically answered and was met with a harsh sigh as she rubbed a weathered hand across her face and pinched at the bridge of her nose,

"I wonder why this career choice fills me with such dread when I had half expected you to say you wanted to be an Auror or a professional Quidditch player." There almost seemed to be a dry laugh laced into her words as she spoke, her half smile far more pronounced as Harry noted her pinched brow and the bitterness and sarcastic humour in her smile. "And as dangerous as those professions are, I somehow would have been entirely comfortable if you chose them rather than this one."

She turned pensive for a time before elbows were planted on her desk, her fingers laced together and she addressed him with a crisp, stern tone as she stared her student down,

"Tell me, why do you want to become a Hunter?"

Harry's eyes widened at the blunt delivery of such a question. Her dark eyes were searching, watching as he worried his bottom lip between his teeth, his fingers clutched at his trousers and his head briefly ducked as he searched for resolve,

"F-Freedom." Harry said slowly, voice shaking before he released a sigh and his voice hardened like steel, "Hunter's can do pretty much anything, go anywhere and as amazing as the magical world is there is nothing that compares to it."

McGonagall's gaze lost some of its searching edge as her brow creased together,

"Freedom?"  
"I… don't want to talk about it, Professor. Just know that I'm serious about this and am planning on taking my exam after either my OWL's or NEWT's."

Minerva McGonagall found herself torn as she watched her student shift in his seat and beg her not to continue. On one side one of her dearest student, a brave boy who wore his heart on his sleeve who she worried had a rather poor homelife, leading to her desperate not to do anything to harm him more than the forces beyond this castle. But, alternatively, he wasn't just one of her students, he was Lily and James's child. A little boy whose parents she adored as much as she cared for him, and the idea of the boy launching himself into a career so dangerous for reasons he refused to go into. What would the two of them think? Was she supposed to talk him down? Direct him away?  
She looked over at the boy, fidgeting and avoiding eye contact, but there was a fire there. A flame of determination and hard resolve that went hand in hand with the furious stubbornness his mother and father had displayed all those years ago, when THEY sat on that side of her desk.

A sigh. Loud and explosive.

"The only thing I can tell you Mr Potter is that the Ministry of Magic is not particularly fond of wizards and witches moving to find work in the Muggle world." McGonagall spoke, any sign of her emotional turmoil non-existent as the stern, no nonsense Transfiguration Professor returned in full force, "Magic has a way to respond to strong emotions, regardless of age or proficiency in using it. The risk to the Statute of Secrecy and our discovery has the Ministry heavily disincentivizing it."

Harry quickly recognized the sense behind it, though he was curious about the fact that even adults could possibly have bouts of accidental magic. Such a thing never considered by Harry and he was briefly left wondering why he thought it didn't happen,

"Then the Ministry will try to stop me from becoming a Hunter?" Harry asked slowly, not relishing the idea of facing off against the Minister for his right to his dream,

"In most cases wizards and witches are able to slip under the radar and the Ministry either doesn't find out or doesn't care to stop them and simply monitors the situation." McGonagall continued, watching the pained realization dawn on Harry's face as she said her next piece, "But those from the old families or those who make a name for themselves don't tend to get that privilege."

"So, they're definitely going to try and stop me then." Not a question, a sour statement that as accompanied by a wince and grimace,

"I do not mean to be dramatic but there are usually some rather heavy options that the Ministry will take." Professor McGonagall continued on with a somewhat grave tone, "If they cannot convince or incentivize you to remain in the magical world for employment, then they may take measures to ensure that you are incapable of breaking the statute."  
Harry wondered if that sentence was designed to be as threatening as it was, the idea of a magical societies government taking measures to silence him couldn't be pleasant. Possibly picking up on Harry's thought process, or possibly entirely wrapped up in her warnings and ensuring they were correctly delivered, Professor McGonagall saw fit to give him some indication as to what to expect when she spoke again, and a chill rolled down his back at the sentence that came.

"You may have to make a choice. Where, for the safety of the magical world and its secrecy, you may have to sacrifice your magic."

.

 **[19th December 1993|22:34]**

Fingers drummed on the table a nonsense beat onto the surface before the hand flew up to Harry's mouth as he sneezed again, the action briefly energising Harry again and leading him to sit back up.

His head turned, looking over his shoulder to an envelope. Signed in his hand and taunting him from under its moonlit spotlight, Harry's eyes narrowed at the offensive letter, but he simply crossed his arms and turned away from it.

It was a request- no. For as incredible as his Master had been in training him all theses years, the letter he had written to her from within this dusty old classroom was nowhere near polite enough to be registered as a request. It was a demand, a demand that briefly read;

 _ **Master,**_

 _ **I have had a change of heart. I don't want to wait until after my OWL's to take the exam, I want to do it as soon as possible.**_

 _ **Instead of staying on until fourth year, I want to take the Hunter Exam. What do I need to do to make that happen? I will accept any punishment, humiliation, disgrace or reprimand you or the world can levy against me, but I will be taking the exam next year. With or without approval.**_

 _ **I await your reply,**_

 _ **Harry**_

A soft tremor ran through his hand as he scooped up the letter between his fingers, swirling around and throwing his legs back over the table, Harry rolled to his feet his eyes not leaving the white envelope.

"Hoot."

Hedwig. A rapid rapping of an impatient bird's beak smacking on the window as a way to get her human to let her in, leaving Harry to turn to his slightly unimpressed gaze to his owl and to smirk. Amber eyes looking up at the mirth filled emeralds of her human which lead to her loudly hooting again and whacking the window again with her beak. Harry moved to open it and let her in after that silent command and was whacked by white wings as she flew into the room and made a display of circling around the room before settling on his shoulder, ruffling her feathers and nipping at Harry's ear in between preening. Harry lovingly caressed her chest feathers and felt his dear friend hum and relax in bliss at his gentle caresses, even as he sighed to himself.

"Hedwig, I'm thinking about making a decision that is potentially the dumbest thing I've ever done." Harry looked out into the moonlight, basking in the lovely chill delivered by the open window,

"Hoot?"  
"Well, I'm going to ask Master to let me take the Hunter's exam early." Harry explained to the curious hoot, "I've been training for nearly a decade but even then, there's no prepping for what I could be facing."

A wing swat stuck the back of Harry's head, a smile lighting up his face as she hooted indignantly at him with angry eyes,

"I know, but no matter how long I wait there is no way of knowing what will happen or who I'll have to fight." He tried to placate Hedwig, but she continued to glare over at him, "Hedwig, can I tell you something?"

There was no immediate answer, but then Hedwig nudged his cheek with her head and he took that as indication to speak,

"I'm worried. Not because of the danger, but… Professor McGonagall said that if I want to be a Hunter I might have to stop being a wizard."

Hedwig didn't respond but he felt the tension in her tiny muscles and the tightening of her talons in his shoulder, he smiled and gently caressed her chest feathers with a gentle smile,

"It's okay Hedwig, no matter what, I promise I'll take care of you. No matter what happens." Her eyes closed, and she nuzzled into her human's gentle hand, "I just don't know. Magic, at the end of the day, is the only real connection I have to my mum and dad. But being a Hunter, that's everything I've ever dreamed of."

Harry looked away from his silent and pensive companion staring up at the ceiling as he had for past few hours. A shiver ran through him from a particularly frosty breath of December air and his right hand closed around something when he shoved his cold hands into his pocket. He laughed, the idea running through his head ridiculous, immature and likely downright insulting to not only his deceased parents and the magical world but to his own dream itself. But it didn't stop him from turning his head to his owl with a smirking mouth and a golden Galleon in hand.

"Heads I stay a wizard. Tails I become a Hunter."

And, with a flick of his thumb, Harry launched the coin into the air, hand outstretched and patiently waiting for whatever fate had in store for him.

.

* * *

.

 **[23** **rd** **July 1994|10:20]**

A vicious slap echoed through the Little Whinging Landfill that left the victim with a vicious red bruise and split lip. Though, he did not stumble or fly away, he did stand cowed but determined before the seething female towering over him,

"Sorry? You meet me with such an impertinent demand and you think a simple 'sorry' is adequate?" her voice a tilting soprano that seemed almost too high from her petite, thin form. The slender hands that had struck him gripped her white dress covered waist before she moved to fold her arms, "How dare you. I will not be spoken to in such a way, in person or writing, not even by you my darling. Do not forget this, not now not ever."

Under the piercing blue gaze that bore into Harry the boy nodded and apologized again, quietly cursing himself for taking such a tone with his Master in that letter even though he did not regret voicing his desire to take the Hunter exam. Looking up at her, as she stood a head above him, he noted the softening of her hard expression and a soft smile twisting up her pink lips,

"Be that as it may, I am pleased to see your conviction." She responded, folding her hands behind her back and abruptly twisting away from Harry and began to walk away. Harry allowed his Master to walk a few paces ahead, only following after she tucked a strand of her golden hair behind an exceptionally pointed ear and crooked a finger to have him follow.

"Despite your rude delivery, my darling student, I did make sure to send your application along to the Association." A finger wag punctuated every syllable, "and got a lovely letter from the Chairman in confirmation."

She twisted back around with a smile like the sun as realization dawned on Harry like

"So I-"

"Yup." She chirped with a soft, a gleeful laugh like a tiny bell highlighting her words, "You have official permission to enter the Hunters Exam."

Harry's heart soared, he couldn't hold back the smile that split his face, hot tears brimming at the corners of his eyes with a light in his eyes that could have blinded the world,

"However."

The light was stunted. Harry's smile faltered as his eyebrows knitted closer together and realization hit Harry a lot faster. A sour taste in his mouth twisting his lips into a grimace as he carefully inquired,

"What are you going to make me do?" He asked slowly, tone hollow, resigned and accompanied by a heavy sigh as he held her gaze with a depressed and wary eye, "You're not just going to let me go?"

Her glorious sneer was the resounding 'NO' that he did not need vocalizing. She moved onwards in the space that they occupied, a clearing of sorts, an area bordered by several story tall piles of rubbish and discarded that would take anyone a few minutes to walk the diameter of. They weren't quite in the center of the area or on one of its edges, but it still took some time for Harry's master to make her unhurried trip towards the edge of the area, back the way they had came in in fact. Here they had dropped their bags and things by a discarded blackboard held within a cracked but solid wooden frame that his master pulled up to stand on its rickety legs.

"It's simple really." Harry's ears rang and he winced harshly as his mentor drug elegant sharp nails across the smooth surface of the blackboard, she scooped a thin stick of white chalk from the bottom and tapped it twice against its black surface, "To get _**MY**_ permission to take the exam, you have one simple task to accomplish."

"You have from now until the end of the summer to strike me. One. Hundred. Times!" She smirked at him with an aura that exuded victory as she emphasized every word with a smug enthusiasm, "No Nen and no magic. I'm not allowing you to breeze through this exam with that Hatsu of yours, and your Ministry won't let you use your wand either. So, your only option are your weapons and hand to hand."

Hands folded behind her back and dark green eyes keeping a steady but bemused gaze on her student, she continued speaking (not allowing her apprehensive protégé time to formulate a reply),

"And if you are not able to strike me, to use what I have taught you to beat me, then you do not deserve to make it to the exam."

Harry knew better than to ask questions, to complain or bargain or negotiate. He even knew that staring up at her in incredulity at her ridiculously unfair demand for too long. A decision had been made, and there wasn't a woman more stubborn than his master, especially when violence and battle were concerned.

He wondered if all Enhancer's were really this single minded?

His fist was swatted away with the back of her hand as he stuck, moving from his position a few feet away to almost nose to nose with his opponent in less than a tenth of a second. The punch soaring through the air towards her completely unfazed face with his second hand, only for it to be tabbed away with a sharp strike from the same hand again. Fist after fist after fist, blistering speed beyond what the majority of the human race would consider possible, rained down onto the smirking woman like fist sized bullets, smacked, blocked or sometimes evaded by the attacked. She just smirked up and over at her desperately focused attacker.

BANG!

"Gah?!" Spittle and bile (shoved up his body) shot forth from his throat and mouth as the violent impact of a tank shell of a punch that collided with his stomach far faster than Harry could even see. The pain left gigantic black spots on Harry's vision, but it didn't quite knock him unconscious.

Which was perfect for the kick he had thrown just before…

Her guard had a gap now, her right harm extended in the uppercut that had struck his stomach, he folded in his abdominal muscles purposefully almost as if he were grasping at the fist that assaulted him. But at a speed he hoped was comparably undodgeable (combined with a hope that he was sneaky enough or his master was distracted enough that this would make contact) his kick flew towards her smooth cheek. It connected with a CRACK that shook her body and snapped her head back with its vicious force.

'That's one!' He celebrated silently in his brain, a split second before he was struck again. His eyes losing the glint of victory as he paled at the murderous intent that assaulted every sense when she snapped her crisp green eyes back to him and spun about. Her weight was thrown behind an open-handed strike that clashed against Harry's stomach once again, and he was GONE with that collision. Sent flying with another wordless shout of agony as surprise as the world blurred past him, his momentum slamming him towards a veritable mountain of the discarded waste of humanity with a frighteningly high velocity. He had a second to react, maybe two or three, but not long until he was buried in and under whatever rubbish he had been punted towards.

Twirling in the air and righting himself, Harry's fingers dug through layers of dirt, dust and muck to find purchase in cold wet stone. Ten minuscule finger tracks carved into the stone ground leading up to the area that Harry eventually stopped slinging. Fingers and arms burning but otherwise, intact and unharmed as he came to a stuttering halt. Muscles spasming in pain and exertion but very much working and Harry remaining very much alive as he looked up and back to where he had flown from.

Harry gasped in as harshly as he could before he flinched from his aching position in the broken pile of mouldy, discarded wooden boxes that he had toppled. He watched his mentor wipe the back of her hand across her soft lips with a growing, sadistic smirk and a murderous glint in her dark green eyes.

"That was one." She growled lowly.

Harry shivered with fear…

.

* * *

.

 **[20** **th** **August 1994|13:10]**

Whitney Acacia's hands blurred, to the naked eye, but she felt nary a breeze ruffle her locks nor did she take much notice of the speed at which she blocked her attacker. Blows like with the force and speed of lightning slammed into nothing but air as she bobbed, weaved, stepped and slapped to avoid her apprentices relentless (almost desperate) assault.

They were deep into the nineties at this point. Whitney took a moment to review the blows she had taken over the past twenty-eight days.

There were the classics, so simple and so boring that she had honestly thought that he would be too proud to use them: dust in the eye, sneak attacks from behind structures (often ones he had thrown her way) and just plain battering her with relentless, unending barrages of attacks as a ruse or front for one solitary attack he intended to blindside her with.

It hurt her pride more than she could express that a good dozen of the attacks she had sustained had been because of that ' _trick_ '.

But at the same time, there had been some real stand outs. Her personal favourite being when Harry had gone so far as to burst up from below the ground and fire off a crippling kick to the apex of her spine, having dug a rudimentary tunnel for that attack alone after she'd sent him home for the day on the 9th.

She was proud of her little student, the darling that had looked up to her just under a decade ago and begged her to make him strong. She was proud of his cunning, his intelligence, his strength and the skill he had cultivated, both with her and whilst outside of her influence.

'He's at ninety-nine.' Whitney noted to herself as she lunged forth, slipping up and past the boot clad leg and slashing across to backhand her protégé. His emerald eyes flicked to her hand in recognition of her attempt and he acted fast, ramming out his own hand and snagging her wrist; Harry not strong enough to stop the impending blow but skilled enough for something else. He used her iron hard arm as leverage, shoving up to have her strike sail under him and he twisted in the air away from the momentum that carried her onwards.

She snapped about, flouting that particular law of physics with her incredible strength and speed to her apprentice who was landing. A palm strike, short, fast and aggressive, flung at his chest like a viper, a viper that smacked meatily against his crossed arms (acting as a shield and buffer to the attack he could not evade).

SLAM! He was pushed back several feet but not sent flying off of his feet or sent hurtling away at a ridiculous distance as he was before. A back flip stopped Harry from falling onto his back and ass after he was flung back as if struck by a lorry. A warm, violent throb ran up and down his arms as Harry uncrossed them, but he shook them harshly, ignoring the pain, and lunged forth to strike his master again with a determined growl and an animalistic ferocity.

A kick off to the left avoided his Master's vicious charge, the woman lunging for him across the distance as he were merely a step away rather than several feet. A pivot and roll on the same foot (that he planted firmly as she passed him by) and a monstrous rolling kick snapped towards her ribs. She dropped and rolled under and away from the kick and her apprentices subsequent stomp, surging to her feet and snapping a punch to his lips. His arm came up to take the strike, shaking his body before he moved to parry the predictable attacks to his body. Firing off a side kick in reply, Whitney jumping back a bit as Harry hoped she would, having wanted more space over expecting impact.

"Harry!" A shout of worry, outcry that Harry did not hear in his focus, Whitney spared a glance to the group of redheads that had arrived a few seconds before. From memory she could identify them as the Weasley's, she had never met the Wizarding family but knew of them from what she had received in letters from her apprentice.

That distraction is all she needed to receive the one hundredth blow, a slice on the cheek and her arms paling to the solid strike of the knife that pierced her shoulder as she turned to the wall of knives slicing through the air in her direction. Turning she had found the arms of her apprentice blurring as he hurled projectile after projectile in her direction, one flying her way a hundredth of a second after the next. Black, razor sharp knives falling into his palm with the slightest flicks and movements of the wrist that flashed towards her like a swarm of giant highspeed flies. There were barely a few feet between them which meant (giving the oppressive speed that they travelled through the air) that there was no hope of simply dodging them without being nicked or struck.

This was a new strategy, not entirely unique or revolutionary but he had never attempted anything of the sort for the past ninety-nine blows. The surprise gave her pause, the speed and distance cut off a few of Whitney's plans of attack and evasion but as she took the second to form a plan the first of the volley was upon her. Human instinct called up her arms to protect her head and face, leading to them being flayed by blades that cut past or burrowed into flesh, a single knife finding home in her shoulder while she blocked or dodged the rest. A smug feeling roiling in her stomach, a feeling that drowned her bitterness at her defeat.

"Was that magic, my darling student?" She sneered her question when the rain of knives halted, carelessly yanking the blades from her body and casting them aside with a smirk and a cocked eyebrow. Harry grinned, the smugness she felt inside was displayed in its entirety on Harry's face as he regarded her,

"Nope. Just slight of hand." He declared victoriously, crossing her arms and allowing a sarcastic lilt to lace his tone as he spoke again, "But… if you want to wait for the angry letter from the Ministry…"

"Don't take the tone with me." She laughed, half joking at his cheek but smiling a sincere grin as she spoke, "It's not necessary my darling. Instead I offer you my congratulations."

Harry's face split into a grin of pride, relief and abject victory whilst the Weasley family descended on the two of them in their desperate need to figure out what on earth was going on…

.

* * *

.

 _ **-CHAPTERS END-**_

[AUTHORS NOTE]

 _ **I had a right good time writing this. A lot more than I thought I would.**_

 _ **To those of you who have read my stuff before, I'll get back to Academia eventually. But with Uni, Work and all the other things going along right now I just wanted a bit of a break and decided to have a good time writing a little idea in my head. I'll add to this when I feel like it.**_

 _ **Have a good one.**_


	2. Chapter 2

[Authors Note]

 _ **This was half written a few weeks ago, then uni assignments hit me hard. Thank you for all that support and positivity on the first chapter. Then I had writers block and just sat here staring at the screen with such an incredible feeling of hatred that I nearly committed an act so atrocious that Hitler and Satan appeared in my living room asking me to chill.**_

 _ **Also, would you be disappointed if I told you that Harry and Acacia's meeting is a big homage to one of my favourite Vines? P.S: IDGAF**_

 _ **Let's begin.**_

.

* * *

.

 _-Chapter Start-_

 _ **HunterXPotter**_

 _ **Chapter 2: To Be Strong**_

 **[9** **th** **February 1986|08:30]**

February had shrugged off the powdery snow of the previous two months to bring sleet and hail raining down onto the streets of Little Whinging on the run up to 1995's Valentine's day.

The town center had introduced a large indoor shopping center, rising four stories into the sky, in place of the traditional market that had stood there since the towns formation. A gigantic cube of greys with purple signs that had been dropped into the area around the towns high street much to many of the town folks chargin, their irritation having waned considerably when the introduction of many major brands meant that most no longer had to take their more… luxurious shopping into London.

The heated front doors of the center, glass and automatic with a thin stream of shoppers trotting in and out, bundled up in thick scarves and gloves and hiding under large umbrella's hats as they stepped into the downpour or escaped from it.

Acacia Primrose was a woman of ridiculous power,

Wrapped up in a pretty-little sundress that ended hallway down her thighs and trotting along in a pair of slick white sandals. She looked about the quaint little town with a gentle smile on her face but a scowl inwardly.

'I'm glad that's over.' She thought to herself as she walked along, smiling in smug victory as she swung along her black purse by its strap having slipped out of the grubby looking bank where she had checked that her pay for the job she had just done had gone through correctly.

The Grunnings contract she had just done was the perfect balance of morally bankrupt and ridiculously lucrative, leaving her with a heavy purse burning a hole in her pocket (metaphorically of course, as if she had those in this particular outfit) and a few extra zeroes into her current account. Focused more on the food and clothes she could snatch with the money she got, Acacia was able to skip along with a gleeful, carefree smile and a sunny disposition.

Then she saw the little kid outside of the ugly little towns shopping center; wet, cold, hungry and alone, a perfect recipe for complete misery. Acacia allowed herself to indulge in her guilty worry filled maternal instincts and looked about for the boy's parents before slipping into the warm indoors and made efforts to keep the shivering little child out of her mind.

Ignoring but not ignorant to the stares of the general populace, Harry Potter looked up into the grey clouds and shivered; a sinking feeling of dread as he awaited the end of the aggressive weather and the return of his relatives.

His stomach rumbled loudly, stabs of pain had painfully frost-bitten hands to clutch it feebly and futile from their place under the large sleeves. He had not eaten since breakfast on Friday, that was when Mrs Andrews hair turned blue during reading. She'd been very nasty to Harry; all the other children had laughed at him and she'd sneered as she looked his way; Harry's eyes had prickled with tears and he felt so alone and upset.

Then her hair had changed colour.

" _ **Freakishness."**_

Harry's ears had caught when Dudley told his father, Vernon's nostrils having flared as his face turned puce. The boy was dragged away from the sink (where he had been washing the dishes) and he was dumped in the cupboard for several days on end. The first time he'd seen the sun in the past few days (that wasn't through the slats in the cupboard door) being the brief glimpse he got a few hours ago, as the clouds were rolling in.

" _ **Boy, you sit here until we come and get you."**_

A sharp order from his red-faced uncle, bundled up in steel grey mittens, hats and scarves as Dudley all but frothed at the mouth and pulled at his father to take him inside to the gaming store. Leaving his 4-year-old nephew sat by the door to await their return. Sniffling and shivering in the three sizes too large steel grey jumper and jeans (his belt wrapped twice around his ever so slim waist and eyes and nose burning with unshed but teetering tears) and his toes wet and slowly numbing from inside his hole ridden trainers. Wondering if his Uncle had finally had enough of him and his freakishness…

"Hello there, little one." A gentle feminine voice called to the shivering child, Harry starting from his memories before he threw his gaze to the source of the inquiry.

She walked over with a pinched expression, a trio of branded carrier bags in one gloved hand as she strode through the puddles and slush in shiny, knee high boots with a grace and ease that had several staring in disbelief whilst she looked on in clear worry. Acacia finally marching out of the shopping center, the skirt of her tiny dress swishing as she marched herself over to the little boy she had tried to ignore earlier.

"Hey there little one, are you ok?" Acacia crouched down to be eye level with the child, reed thin and swathed in clothes way too large, almost like a tiny scarecrow, "You've been out here for a long time."

Harry shuffled back a few steps and his already cold and red face deepened in colour as he avoided eye contact. Acacia's own jade gaze attempting to snap the emerald eyes of the little boy to her own,

"You look cold, darling. Is everything ok? Where's your mum and dad, little one?"

Harry's hands scrunched up his damp t-shirt, he pursed his lips together and, eventually, spoke up with in a low volume that Acacia had to strain to hear,

"Erm… Mrs Andrews says we shouldn't talk to strangers." Harry murmured, cold hands clutching at wet sleeves in a cautious fidget whilst the lady smiled down at him gently, that smile deepening with affection as she gave a few gentle nods of understanding,

"That's right, little one. Sorry." She said gently, her tone reminded Harry of how the other mummies at school talked to their children and Harry was hit by a stab of longing in his chest and rise of heat in his cheeks.

"Mr Potter, are you being a menace, again?" A woman roared out, ignorant or uncaring of the ridiculous volume she was yelling at,  
"Menace?" Acacia, turning away from the boy in question to watch the lady's approach. Probably standing at about six feet and the wooly jumper and dark trousers she had clothed herself in straining from her unhealthy girth.  
"N-No, Mrs McCallister. I'm just standing here." Harry mumbled and flinched back as the woman towered over the child, almost toe to toe to him with her hands firmly planted on her hips before she leaned down and forward. Heedless and blind to the boy's discomfort that caused him to shrink in on himself and away from her,  
"Why are you loitering about, hmm?" She snapped out, arms crossed over her chest finding the thick black and grey bun of hair bobbing atop her head at her sharp movements.  
"Excuse me." Acacia cut in and the woman turned to her in surprise, straightening up as she was subjected to the accusatory and quite clearly irritated gaze, "Is there any particular reason why you are antagonizing this child?"

The response she was met with was neither positive nor polite, a scowl that split this gruff and vile woman's face.

"I don't think I've seen your face around here, young lady."

"Little one, could you keep a hold of these for me, please." Her smile was sweet and alluring, Harry frozen stiff on the sight of it he only has a split second to stop the stuffed bag of expensive items from falling into the icy, slushy puddles.

Acacia's hand burrowed into the pristine purse that had hung from her shoulder by a thin, golden chain. The aforementioned Mrs McCallister had looked ready to cause even more of a scene but was silenced before she could speak. Silenced by the woman she was about to address, the woman laughing a sinister and malevolent cackle that choked out her words before they could even form in her throat.

Slim handles rifled past trinket after item after knick knacks until her hands and fingers enclosed on the item she was looking for with a glorious 'Aha!'

A red and purple card with two black X's side by side on its surface.

"Wha- but that's-"

"That's mine. That's real. And I'm done with this conversation."

The false cheer that she had spoken with seconds prior vanishing, leading off with nothing less than an aura of visceral and vigorous malevolence. The sheer force of the frosty, frigid terror that sliced deep into her skin and muscles to burrow into her bones as if she were stood nude in a blizzard.

Harry wasn't an idiot, he was young and far from stupid, so he

"This, little one, is a Hunters license." She gestured the colourful card at the boy, smirking to herself as his eyes followed it as he wafted it from side to side a little bit as a pleasant warm feeling settled in her chest. She smiled as she held out her hand, universal gesture for a handshake. A gentle, playful squeeze of the chilled little hand that appeared from within the large sleeve caused the little Harry to squeak in surprise and blush as Acacia giggled away.

"What is a Hunter?" Was a question in his quiet but determinedly curious tone, leaving her to compose herself and hum in thought as she wracked her brain,

"Hmm… We're super strong fighters who get to run around and do whatever we want." She explained as simply and minimally as she could for the child that looked far too thin and far too small, surprised then warmed by the boys wide eyed expression. She basked in the wave of positive feelings before her slightly pointed ears began to numb in the cold and she was sharply reminded why she had approached the child in the first place.

"You've been out here for a long time little one, is your mummy and daddy coming to get you soon?" she asked softly and was mildly surprised by the response. He placed a finger firmly against his own lips and folded his other arm beneath it. A gesture he likely was conditioned into at school to highlight that he was being silent.

Her laugh was music,

"What a cheeky little one you are." She said through peals. Seeing the boys far too pale cheeks flush an even deeper red and his round green eyes (magnified by those thick glasses) widen in moderate indignant fury only caused her to giggle for even longer. Though she registered that there had been an undercurrent of hurt in that green gaze when she'd brought up parents that quickly allowed her to halt her amusement and follow through on these maternal instincts.

First though, she needed to get him out of the cold...

"Hmm, you're here waiting for someone, right?" She waited with an expectant expression before she received a nod in affirmation. She gently took her bags from the boy and stepped back and up to her full height; Acacia was quick to note the disappointment and upset that briefly flashed across the little guys face and made quick work of looking for what she needed, "There."

A suddenly despondent (at the mere thought that this nice lady was finally done speaking to him and was going to walk away) Harry turned to follow the pointing finger of the woman in the white sundress. The café at the end of their line of sight was a café wedged between a subway and a boutique, an awning outside bulging under the weight of a heavy puddle of water,

"If we go and sit over there we can get out of this nasty weather and we'll be able to see when the people you are waiting for come back for you."

It took Harry far longer to school his features, a myriad mask of hopefulness, fear and a deep depression.

"Um… my uncle said I need to wait here until he comes back…" Harry mumbled, shuffling his feet about under him as he looked down at the floor. Missing Acacia's eyes scrunch up slightly as she took in his stance.

"Where do you live, little one?" Miss Acacia asked gently, a miniscule look of concern and rage flashing over her face as the boy stiffened and a look of worry in his big green eyes,

"Erm, I live at my aunt and uncles house." He murmured out, face scrunched in thought as he wracked his brain. Acacia winced and sighed at the lack of an answer but realised that the little one didn't know. She groaned audibly, missing the boy flinch again as she squeezed her eyes shut and pinched the bridge of her nose between her forefinger and thumb.

"Well, you've been out here for at least 2 hours, my sweet. So, I'm gonna take you somewhere warm." Harry's eyes widened in fear and quiet hopefulness as her eyes looked about and found a café across the street and a lightbulb lit up above her head, "Would you like a hot chocolate, my darling?"

And she refused to hear any complaints or excuses, instead plopping him in front of a steaming mug with a tower of chocolate sprinkle laden whipped cream. Her expression only softening from her expectant look when he took a hesitant sip and his eyes widened and he gave a little moan.

Only allowing her concern and hideous rage (at the people who had left such a polite little soul alone in the cold) to subside into gentle affection when the little boy moaned in delight at his first sip of the creamy beverage and the little ' _ **eek**_ ' of surprise when the cream on its surface poked him on his little, red nose.

The little red nose began to run with sniffles shaking the boy's body before Acacia's eyes. Stunned, she looked up from the boys dribbling to his wide green eyes behind those thick spectacles, those big eyes that seemed to inflate as tears flooded them,

"Shhh… don't cry. Everything's okay little one." The woman said as she approached and carefully wrapped her arms around the boy. He couldn't be any older than 5 or 6, "What's your name?"

"Nobody calls me by my name," the boy murmured out, shrinking away from the woman when he eventually settles himself down enough to speak, "But it's Harry. Harry Potter."

He descended further into sobs and tears as Acacia watched on with clenched teeth as she folded her hands in her lap and balled her fists around the fabric

"P-please don't t-take me back." The teary boy's voice cracked as she went to speak, the begging freezing her words behind her lips as he finally gave into her hug and pressed his tear-stricken face into her. The woman murmuring sweet reassurances into the boy's ears whilst she internally questioned and cursed herself for whatever she had gotten herself in to.

.

* * *

.

 **[1** **st** **September 1994|10:30]**

"Due to closed lines we are expecting some heavy delays to the following…" The tearful, emotional goodbyes of Hermione Granger and the Weasley family drowned out the announcements in Harry's ears. His arms warmly, if a bit awkwardly, held and hugged away as he was passed between fiery red hair and chocolate brown as Hermione and Mrs. Weasley went to war on who could kill him with kindness. One snatching away Harry from the other to offer a bone crushing hug and orders for him to stay safe and be careful whilst the boys looked on in sympathy whilst Ginny fidgeted and looked on as if she were a hair breadth away from doing the same.

"You be careful dearie, ok?" The Weasley matriarch fretted from Harry's side, hovering worriedly as she saw her youngest son's best friends hugged each other goodbye,  
"I want a letter as soon as you're on the boat." Hermione ordered sharply into Harry's shoulder, nails digging into his back and shoulder as if she were afraid to let him go, "And I want regular updates."

"Bloody hell, Hermione. Chill out a bit." Ron grumbled from behind them both, "He's not going off to war."  
"Ronald, language." His mother turned to rail on her son as his siblings snickered on either side of him whilst Hermione made no response, until Harry snickered, and she punched him in the side. Finally, Hermione pulled back to hold her friend at arms-length and look into his eyes. The expression that had blossomed on her face, her brown eyes searching and wide as she took him in, it was something Harry had never seen, he could barely define it, yet she looked so close to tears that he could not help but drag her back in to hug her again,

"I'll write when I get on the ship and keep in touch during the trip." Harry promised wholeheartedly

"And write to me when you get to the continent." She implored into his chest, conscious of the fact that eyes were on the pair of them. But did she care? She was sending off her best friend to yet another certain death situation that he would have to face alone, she'd hug him as much as she wanted!  
"Mmm hmm." Harry hummed his acquiescence as his warm, serene grin shifted to a playful smirk and accompanying chuckle, "I'll be back before you know it and you'll be badgering me to do all that homework I missed."

Hermione laughed as she finally extracted herself from her friend and let him say goodbye to the others,

"Knock em dead, Harrikins." The twins said in unison, grasping a shoulder in each hand before leaning in to claim an ear each,

"You ever need a little tricky edge to off one of the applicants…" Fred in his left,

"We're an owl post away…" George in his right. The two pulled back and patted his shoulders affectionately,

"You just make sure to give us credit, ok?" They said together, and Harry allowed a hearty laugh and a nod.

"I'll see you guys soon." Harry smiled, snickering again and rolling his eyes as they both gave him deep, extravagant bows. He turned his head to Ginny, red faced at the sudden attention she received. He stepped over and offered his friend a hug that she quickly reciprocated,

"B-Be careful." She murmured out and Harry gave a nod and a soft squeeze (eliciting a sharp 'eep' of surprise) before he pulled away. Turning at last to his other best friend, Ron looking slightly awkward off to the side, likely nothing to do with the scolding…

"I can't say that I get what is going on really or why this is so important to you."  
"I did a pretty piss poor job explaining it to you, so I don't blame you mate."  
Ron smirked and gave a bit of a shrug,

"You could have done better, and I still might have been scratching my head. I'm not the Muggle expert in the family after all." Ron's head jerked to his father off to the side, marveling at one of the more modern looking trains in the station, garnering odd looks as he reverently ran a hand up and down the glossy exterior. They both shared a short laugh between them, with Ron composing himself first with a bit of a shrug and a non-chalant tone, "But yeah, be careful and all that. Though, you did face off a Basilisk back in second year and those Dementor's last year. So, I doubt the Muggle's have anything that'll really be too much of an issue for you."

His eyes widened as his friend groaned at his words and he was slightly irritated as his friend lightly thumped him (before quickly catching on to his good-natured smirk and shake of head),

"You've jinxed me now mate, things can only go downhill from here." Harry sighed out, Ron quick to match his mirthful expression. There were some laughs all around amongst the Weasley's before an announcement rang through the station,

"Attention: All for the 9:45 to Oban, boarding has begun." Came a silky, masculine voice over the intercom and Harry just FELT that he wasn't the only one to turn in the direction of the voice and then towards the platform that the train was waiting.

"That's me." Harry said softly, leaning down and grabbing the dark backpack at his feet and slinging it onto his back. A smile, warm and wistful in a gentle goodbye of its own, "I'll see you later."

.

He walked with them towards Platform 9, peering at the clock that told him he was out of time, and offered them a wave as they positioned themselves to run through the invisible, magical barrier to Platform 9 ¾. With a heavy heart he took in their smiling faces and responding waves before shifting his backpacks straps on his back and walking onwards to Platform 11, secure in the fact that he would see them again before he knew it.

"LOOK OUT!" A sharp feminine cry caused Harry to quickly turn back at the exclaimed warning, looking to the figure that was approaching him, stumbling and staggering towards him at a speed that she made it clear that she wouldn't stop in time.

Despite how sharp and refined Harry's senses and movements were, the image of a buxom, bubble-gum pink haired female a head taller than him stumbling towards him at highspeed was such an oddity that he was left motionless for long enough that she collided with him and took him to the floor with her. Harry's winced harshly at the pain that blossomed on the back of his head as he lay on the ground with the woman sprawled atop him doing similar.

"You good?" He groaned out as a movement on her part accentuated his backpacks harsh digging into his back,

"Y-yeah. Sorry pal." She groaned as she lifted herself up onto her hands and Harry got a look up at her pretty pink lips blossoming into a dazzling and mischievous grin, "I promise I don't make a habit of jumping on top of every man I meet." Harry laughed before he properly comprehended what had been said, then he blushed harshly. Looking up at the brown eyes in the heart shaped face of the woman atop him, seeing them widen as they took him in,

"Wait, you're Harry, aren'tcha?" She grinned, and Harry froze slightly before nodding slowly at who he immediately knew to be a witch. Somewhat perturbed further by her smile widening to such an incredible size that he thought her face may go so far as to split in half,

"Hehe! Target acquired!" She declared excitedly as she rolled back onto her knees, still effectively straddling him as she smiled down at him, "Wotcher Harry, I'm Tonks. I'm gonna be looking after you for a while..."

.

* * *

.

 **[23** **rd** **July 1994|09:30]**

 _ **SLAP!**_

A clear and present reminder to all of the wincing and cringing onlookers (and the one victim) that Hermione Granger had been blessed with a gloriously vicious right hand.

Harry's face reared to the side at the blow, issued to him by one of his best friends from his seat at the Burrow's breakfast table. He was midway through his explanations as to how and why he had been slammed around a rubbish dump when the Weasley's had arrived to pick him up the day before. Awkward questions had been dodged, for the majority of the day (thanks in part to the tongue lashing Molly had unleashed upon her twin sons at the use of something called a 'Ton-Tongue-Toffee' on his unsuspecting cousin Dudley), and he'd been able to get away with giving vague and uncommitted answers to the ignorant red heads in order to escape any further mother-henning or worry from his dearest friends.

But the logical, intellectual, and downright stubborn, young woman that was Hermione Granger (who was able to think of something different when Harry said the word Hunter) was having none of his misdirection's, and upon finally niggling the truth out of him…

SLAP! Another violent blow to the same cheek (that was flaring red from the abuse),

"Hermione Granger!" Mrs. Weasley began, but,

"You irresponsible, reckless, suicidal i-i-idiot!" The ever-eloquent Hermione stuttering and struggling through what was clearly a white hot, blind rage, "How dare you through yourself into something so dangerous!"

"Hermione Granger do not lay a hand on him again." Mrs. Weasley's fury stayed the girl's hand as it raised to strike the unrepentant face of her victim, Harry having stared down the girl who had hit him without so much as a flinch, "Harry, could you explain yourself a bit, please. You've not been very clear."

Harry cleared his throat to speak but Hermione interrupted with a groan. Leaving Harry (and everyone else) staring at her as she explained,

"Hunter doesn't quite mean the same thing in the muggle world as it may in the wizarding." Eyes scrunched closed and her head shaking,  
"I'm surprised you haven't come across one or two within in your department at the Ministry, Mr Weasley." Harry turned to the man with innocent surprise,  
"I didn't give you permission to speak, Mr. Potter. So, shut up." Hermione snarled, glaring at him (as he did to her in turn) with fiery eyes before steadying herself with a long inhale and exhale, before addressing the room, "A synonym for the profession would be 'mercenary'. Hunters are paid to run around the world and do dangerous assignments for money, they are considered some of the most powerful people on the planet."

"By Merlin! Harry dear why on Earth would you want to do a job like that?" Mrs. Weasley gasped out her question, hand over her heart as she looked over at the dark-haired boy in inconsolable worry, "It sounds far too dangerous for a boy to be trying to do."

Harry smiled gently at his friend's mother (a woman who he considered the closest he would ever get to a mother himself) before shaking his head,

"My Master did say that she wanted me to at least wait until I'd passed my OWL's." He shrugged, wondering (though not with much confidence) if that may mean something to her. Considering that that may have been the incorrect thing to say when her eyes widened, and Hermione's narrowed, "Just with the last few years at Hogwarts as an indicator, I didn't want to die at that school before I got my license."

"Master?" Mrs Weasley murmured out her question (whilst the others silently questioned his choice of words) but Mr Weasley chose then to make a different comment,

"Don't be over dramatic Harry." Mr. Weasley piped up from the other end of the kitchen tale, toast crumbs stuck to his cheeks as he drummed away at the table with his fingertips, "There have been some… unfortunate circumstances over the last few years. But, Hogwarts is still the safest place in the country and there is no way you are really going to die. Especially with Dumbledore as Headmaster."

Several winces said otherwise.

"Dad. It wasn't Dumbledore that saved my life." Ginny, her voice hollow and cold from her place to her father's left.

The mood of the room instantly taking a nosedive as she stared into her porridge and stirred it absently.

"Erm, Ginny-"

"Was that lady your master, Harry." She ignored the worried inquiries of her parents and locked eyes with the Boy-Who-Lived from her place near her father,

"Yeah." He nodded, quick to answer when he noticed the empathetic and desperate look in her eyes (clearly wanting the subject to be changed), "She taught me everything I know, pretty much."

He wanted to continue, but the Weasley parents had other ideas,

"Harry mate, y-you're really going to get a Muggle job instead of going to Hogwarts?" Ron asked as the group guiltily filed out of the kitchen. The Weasley parents having ushered them out before they sat beside their silent daughter as the door snapped shut. Harry's first friend his age, the boy clearly baffled but desperate to understand all the same, "Why?"

"It's…"

"Complicated?" Fred and George smirked out their question but raised an eyebrow each at Harry's shaking of the head,

"I guess it's… embarrassing? I don't really want to talk about it." Harry folded his arms as he stepped past the wall mounted Weasley family clock as  
"Why though?" Ron's face scrunched up in bewilderment,

"…if I told you you'd probably think less of me." Harry's quiet admission seemed to echo in the stuffy living room of the Burrow. The Boy Who Lived perched on the arm of the squashed red sofa as Hermione, Ron and the twins hovered about the room, the smell of breakfast having drifted through from the kitchen to give the room an underlying scent of porridge and honey. Jumpers were being knit by floating, autonomous knitting needles. A similarly independent brush swished up and down the room, ushering dust and dirt away as Crookshanks followed along (sneezing at the occasional dust mote and swiping an orange paw at the straw bristles). The room was cozy, clearly magical and was coloured in deep but gentle shades of brown and red.

"Be that as it may, Harry. It isn't safe or clever for you of all people to take the Hunter exam." Hermione shook her head and crossed her arms, ignoring her desperate urge to push her friend for answers and instead gave in to her anger and irritation at Harry for that moment,

"What are you talking about now, Hermione?" Harry's question was tired as he looked over at his infuriated friend,

"You're a magnet for trouble! No matter how much you try to avoid it." Hermione scowling and exasperated as she ripped into him, her expression flickering to the briefest ghost of guilt at the flinch from her friend, "It's taken all three of us to deal with all the situations we've fallen into, and you running off into a certain death situation without us is stupid, Harry! You quite literally can't do anything without us helping you."

Ron bit his tongue but looked ready to agree, the twins however looked on from the sidelines with an unreadable expression as both Harry and Hermione's expressions darkened considerably.

"As much help as you all have been, in the end I've always ended up dealing with everything alone." Harry endeavored to keep the bitterness from his tone and soldiered on before Hermione could muster the words to speak, "In the end I faced Quirrell and Voldemort alone. Ron and I got separated so I fought that basilisk on my own. And yes, you were there behind me, but I was the only one who knew how to cast the Patronus last year and in the end that came down to me alone to do it. I could never have made it to that endpoint without you but when it gets down to the last few moments, I've faced everything without help."

Hermione… spluttered. The entire situation had strayed far farther than Harry had thought it was so, although he was baffled at her response, his emotions were running so high. They had been since he'd spoken to Vernon, spitting in the face of his childhood tormentor and finally showing his bullying uncle that he would no longer be cowed.

So in this moment where he was seeing red and his dear Hermione was the one pushing one button too many, bitterness and aggression spilled out of him as he spat,

"Just like before Hogwarts, when I really need help the most I'm on my own and have only myself to rely on." His fists clenched, and he almost cried in front of the group around him, missing Hermione's own expression shifting completely as her anger vanished in an instant, "Get off your high horse, Hermione Granger and stop making out as if you have any say in what I do and don't do. I've spent the last ten years trying to become independent and actually live and I'm not going to have that be broken by anyone. Not even my best friend who thinks she knows absolutely bloody everything!"

The expression on her face was morbidly comical; reeled back and wide eyed as if Harry had slapped HER. The harsh words passed between them leaving the assembled Weasley's aghast and the two speakers almost vibrating with rage.

She stormed from the room. Harry felt half a dozen eyes on him but dared not look to find out the nature of their expressions, instead taking a breath before following her when the slamming of a door echoed through the building.

"Go away, Harry Potter." She spat venomously through the door a few minutes later, snapping at him from the other side of Ginny's bedroom door when he knocked on it.

Harry rested his back gently against the wooden door to Ginny's room and slid down to take a seat,

"I'm just going to sit out here." A statement Harry made before a soft, thoughtful sigh.

It was quiet for a few minutes, though Harry's ears were sensitive enough to pick up some muffled sobs in the other room that had his heart clenching uncomfortably in his chest (as well as hearing a few Weasley's ghosting up the stairs to spy on whatever exchange occurred).

"Hermione, I know you've always been there to help me. No matter what, you've always gone out of your way to make sure I'm safe. And I've not always been very appreciative of it." A distant and nostalgic smile split his face as he started to speak, "In a way you've been like another mother too me."

His own thoughts turning to the previous year's Christmas and the Firebolt as a sharp reminder,

"But Mione, I'm going through with this no matter what people say. It's dangerous, I know, but I wouldn't through myself into it if I didn't think it was necessary or if I wasn't prepared." Harry heard a shift in the room and a brief pause in her tears, so he continued on before he could feel any guiltier, "And right now, I don't need a mother to worry after me. I need a friend. A friend who will say that she'll still be there to have my back no matter what happens."

A pregnant pause hung heavily in the air,

"H-How can I have your back if you're running off somewhere." A sniffle through the wood, his friend having moved closer to the door as she let him speak. Harry moved quick with a gentle response,

"You're the brightest witch of our age, as intelligent as Ravenclaw was supposedly. I refuse to believe she holds a candle to you." Harry smirked as he heard a pseudo-offended scoff and snicker from behind him, "If anyone could find a way to help it's you."

He nearly fell onto his back when the door was gently pulled open, Harry was quick to twist round and onto his feet to face his blotchy faced friend.

"I'm not going to die on you or anything. You're stuck with me for a bit longer."

She just hugged him, nuzzling a wet face into the crook of his neck and shaking with hysteric laughs and harsh sobs that echoed through Harry's guilty bones. Harry's eyes catching an appreciative Ron in the corner of his eye as he just held on.

.

* * *

.

 **[1** **st** **September 1994|11:00]**

The scarlet steam train strained, huffed and pulled away from the waving and shouts of 9 and ¾ on its way to Hogwarts School in Scotland. Shaking and shuddering as the passengers trundled their way out of London, slowly picking up speed as people found their seats and got comfortable. People including Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, who made their way back to their trunks and compartment after having waved their goodbyes and then split off from Fred, George and Ginny.

"Oh, hey Neville." Hermione said in surprise as they saw Neville slotting a trunk up next to theirs when they opened their door,

"Hi Neville." Ron slumped into his seat and gave his surprised roommate his greeting, returning Neville's slightly nervous smile and watching Hermione settle in next to him in the seat parallel to his.

"W-Where's Harry? Toilet?" The round-faced boy asked with a look to the door as if the Boy Who Lived was due to walk in at any minute. Missing the pained but questioning look that was shared between the two as he was peeking at the door, but in turn THEY missed him momentarily perk up at the door opening and the smiling face that peaked in. Curly blonde hair falling in glorious ringlets down her back and pretty, white toothed smile on her face,

"Hi guys!" Lavender Brown preened and called, stepping over the threshold with a bright, neon pink floating along behind her in line with her waist. Behind that trunk were two far less… garish black trunks in the hands of the dark haired, beautiful Patil twins. Padma on the left, looking beyond her sister and waving to someone no one in the compartment could see, she swished her black hair over her shoulder and moved on, planting a kiss on Parvati's cheek as she passed and giggled away as her sister scowled and swatted at her as she walked along,

"Hello everyone, may we sit in here with you?" Parvati asked after she rolled her eyes and ran a hand, almost anxiously with a heat rising in her cheeks, up and down the pretty plait she had tied her glossy black hair into,

"You guys don't have a problem, do you?" Lavender spoke out with a serene yet devious grin, Hermione could barely bite back her scowl and looked traitorously towards the boys when they let the two in. Lavender flopping into the seat next to Ron, sitting rather close with the boy's ears and cheeks flaring red, whilst Parvati sat beside Hermione and gave an almost nervous grin to her roommate that gave her pause. Lavender and Parvati were giggling, confident young women (to Hermione's knowledge) so such an expression seemed completely foreign on her pretty face.

"Are you okay, Parvati?" She asked and noted her roommate brown eyes dip down and her mouth twisted into a nervous grin whilst her friend giggled furiously behind her hand, Parvati glared at Lavender and the blonde laughed harder, "What is going on?"  
"You both look like you're up to no good." Neville said slowly with a soft glare that gave Lavender's laughter pause as her hazel eyes found his darker ones. She folded her arms then turned from him to Ron,

"Where's Harry?" She asked carefully, Hermione's hand instinctively inching to her wand at the sudden, uncharacteristic seriousness before she could stop herself,

"Why?" Ron asked slowly, his reddened cheeks at sitting so close to such a pretty girl fading as he was subjected to the same feeling of unease as his other best friend across the compartment. A small smile bloomed on her lips and a mischievous light burned in her eyes as they flitted to a still glaring Parvati.

 **KNOCK! KNOCK!**

The five of them turned to the closed doors of the compartment where the duo Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan stood waiting outside, a gesture inviting them in,

"Are we good to sit in here?" Dean asked, and they got a slew of positive responses as they moved in and made to put their trunks away.

"Harry not with you then?" Seamus's question was sharp as he flopped into a seat next to Dean as he shuffled a deck of Exploding Snap cards. A smirk curled up his lips as Dean hummed with thought as Seamus jabbed a finger up at where the trunks were stored, "Not in here with you two at all huh? You lot fallen out?"

Their eyes flicked up, in unison, to the overhead area where Harry Potter's black and brown trunk was nowhere to be seen. The boys, having shared a room with the boy for three years now, recognizing its absence whilst Lavender and Parvati's eyebrows rocketed up and they shared a silent question as they locked eyes.

"Where is Harry? Is he okay?" Parvati asked worriedly, a tense atmosphere settling in briefly as Ron and Hermione had a silent exchange,

"Harry's not coming to Hogwarts until… when does the exam finish?" Ron murmured out before raising his volume to ask Hermione his question,  
"Exam?!" Neville squeaked incredulously, looking a bit scared at the implication whilst cogs turned behind Hermione's eyes as she thought,

"He should be back in either mid-January or early February." Hermione hummed out her response, heedless to the wide-eyed stares of her Housemates.

"Where's Harry gone that he's not coming back till next year?!" Seamus blurted out, bringing the Boy Who Lived's best friends back into the real world and reminded them that they were in the company of five other people. Dean, sat next to him, narrowed his eyes in thought whilst the rest of the compartment looked over to the pair of them in expectation of answers,

"Erm, Harry's doing some stuff in the Muggle world." Ron said carefully, looking towards Hermione who nodded in satisfaction at his answer, though everyone else did not look as pleased,

"The Muggle world?!" Lavender screeched, the compartment collectively flinching at the shrillness and volume, "For five months?!"

"Harry lives with Muggle's, doesn't he?" Parvati asked slowly, soft eyes wide in concern, "Are they okay? Is there something wrong with them?"

A hateful scowl twisted into life on Ron's face whilst Hermione remained determinedly silent in the face of their questions,

"There's PLENTY wrong with them. But they aren't why Harry's taking the time off." Ron snarled out, voice dripping with loathing. Hermione looked like she wanted to say something, her expression hinting at a possible reprimand to the red head, but the words died on her lips and she didn't say anything.

"You said exam, right?" Dean asked, cutting in before Lavender could further demand answers, Hermione's eyes widened, and Ron nodded his head, "He's not trying to take the Hunter's exam, is he?"

Seamus, Neville and Parvati's expressions dawned into immediate horror at the statement and the pairs lack of a denial.

"People die in that exam, ALL THE TIME." Seamus snapped out in incredulity, "What is he thinking?!"

"H-He'll be fine."  
"How will he be? He can't use magic, can he?" Seamus roared back at Neville's quaking reply, the boy flinching at Seamus's heated response, "I bet Harry didn't think about that. Or he did and, cause he's the Boy Who Lived, the Ministry are just-"

"Shut up, Seamus." Ron snarled to him and the two were locked in harsh glares whilst the rest of the compartment continued the conversation.

"What is the Hunter exam?" Lavender's tone was timid and inquisitive, the girl flushing as attention turned to her quite quickly. Her best friend was quick to clear her throat and begin to explain,

"A Hunter is a muggle profession, there is some overlap in the magical world but not so much in this country. It's not that big of a surprise that you might not have heard of them." Parvati spoke up to her friend after she quelled the hammering of her heart, Ron made a noise of agreement at her latter statement before the Indian girl continued, "They hunt for people and for stuff all over the world."

"Hunters are considered the best of humanity. With few exceptions, they can go anywhere and do anything." Hermione piped up as a continuation of her roommate's simplistic definition, "They are hired for the most strenuous, dangerous or specialized tasks around the world. With a lot of them being combat oriented."

"Hunters are really strong and pretty scary." Neville spoke up with a shudder, arms rapping around himself loosely as he spoke, "My Nan hired one to be a bodyguard whilst I was little, she was terrifying."

"Everyone has wanted to be a Hunter at least once in their life. And yeah, they are pretty scary strong." Dean spoke up again, a strand of awe polluting his words as he held a distant tone, "Harry becoming one of them is a scary thought to think about."

Interested silence settled in the train compartment in the wake of those words as the green of the country whipped past their windows.

.

* * *

.

 **[1** **st** **September 1994|10:35]**

The woman's death grip on his shoulder caused him to flush in a young man's embarrassment at the sheer proximity to someone so pretty. Then he also flinched and winced because… it was a death grip and he genuinely worried that this random lady's fingers may pierce his skin and crush his bones,

'How can a person this size have a grip this strong!' He screamed inside his own head as he let a look of disbelief briefly play across his features as he looked over at the woman in question, Nymphadora Tonks. Just Tonks, he reminded himself, the hyper-recent-memory of the iron grip on his left ear that the woman had given him (pinching it between her thumb and forefinger) when he had tried to sound it out himself, was a… interesting woman.

Dressed up in a big leather trench coat, with dark jeans and a t-shirt with the Weird Sisters names and silhouette's in neon pink on the dark fabric, the get up (combined with her loud volume and clumsy gait) drawing in a reasonable amount of attention as they had made their way across the station to the right platform and train. The occasional scowl or extended gaze levelled at her bright pink pixie cut.

Sliding into the slick black train and stepping, pushing and shoving past a myriad of colourful people. The pair even having to avoid sprawling onto the ground when Tonks nearly slammed to the ground (almost dragging Harry to the ground also) when a white-haired kids skateboard SOMEHOW ended up under her feet. The two staggered into a compartment shortly after with a whoop and a sigh (from the lady and the gent respectively).

Harry hurled his backpack into an overhead shelf and yawned before his companion's sarcasm turned his head,

"Travelling a bit light, aren't we?" a mischievous smirk present on the woman's face as Harry twisted round,

"You're one to talk, you don't even have any luggage." Harry shrugged and snickered, raising a brow when her smirk deepened, and her own eyebrows waggled. She reached into the deep righthand pocket of her coat (before she shrugged it off and threw it down onto the seats behind her) brandishing what was clearly a trunk in her right hand that was roughly the size of a chocolate bar. "Shrinking charms, making the slog of travelling all the easier."

Her smirk deepened again as Harry rolled his eyes and she crossed her arms,

"Aren't you just the HEIGHT of jealous? You can't cast any spells outside of Hogwarts for another few years." She laughed after she spoke, and Harry glared half-heartedly as he dropped into his seat across from her,

"Yeah, laugh it up." He muttered as he did just that. He straightened out his own pale t-shirt (a far cry from the stretched-out hand me downs of his cousin from so long ago) and noted the now familiar and gentle chaffing of the item on his arm. His right wrist (his dominant hand) was dominated by a black manacle like piece of jewelry, decorated with gaelic runes across its surface in a beautiful silver.

Hermione's handiwork.

.

 **[30** **th** **August 1994|20:18]**

" _Oh, I SO wish I could have shown this to Professor Babbling first, maybe she would have let me move up a year or two." She moaned, pouty lips and mournful gaze included as she secured the piece onto Harry's wrist. Muttering some under her breath as Harry rolled his hand about, allowing himself to grow somewhat accustomed to the items presence and weight._

" _Care to explain what that is?" Ron asked from the sidelines, his copy of Seeker Weekly discarded at his side (open at a page of Viktor Krum gunning the air with his fist clenched around the Golden Snitch, heedless of Ireland's winning score on the board behind him). Hermione scowled,_

" _Again?!" Ron's facial expression morphed to match hers as he fiddled with his pajama bottoms and glared until her expression changed,_

" _I used several runic arrays strapped to a piece of stygian steel, very well known for its magical conductivity by the way, to insert a-"_

" _Could you just tell us in simple terms, Mione." Harry interrupted with pursed lips and resisted rolling his eyes at her over the top sigh of exasperation,_

" _It's like having a bottomless trunk strapped to your wrist." She explained sharply before a gleam of smug pride and victory lit up her brown eyes as she eyed it and her friend, "You can fit anything and everything you'll ever need in there. Thank me whenever it's convenient."_

 _He gave her a playful shove on the shoulder and she descended into giggles._

 _._

 **[1** **st** **September 1994|10:35]**

The bag itself was a bit of a decoy. The majority of his things were held within the manacle whilst the bag itself held a drink, some snacks, a change of clothes and a knife. A gift from Sirius that could slice through stone as if it were paper and unlock things with the same ease as an Alohamora (a far less conspicuous method for use in the Muggle world).

His thoughts though returned from the past and focused on the woman across from him. He settled into his seat as she flopped into hers and he hummed in question to himself as she looked over herself in deep curiousity.

"So, whose arse did I kiss to get an Auror bodyguard?" Harry asked as cocked his head to the side and leaned back in his chair, noting (with just little bit of satisfaction) that mild surprise registered on her face,

"How did you figure that out?" She asked, no surprise just curiousity. Harry pointed to her coat and she followed his finger with a still questioning expression,

"You don't hide your badge that well." He answered, dropping his arm and smiling as her brown eyes widened and her cheeks flushed a light pink. Harry had recognized the golden badge (that had slipped from her pocket when she'd bowled him over) from all the Aurors who'd hovered around hunting Sirius the year before.

"Wow, forget my self-esteem!" She placed a hand over her chest and her face contorted into mock horror and upset, Harry smirking and rolling his eyes. Her face morphed back into an expression morphed back into something more blasé before she continued, "I'm just assigned to you by the Ministry because you're the prime target for Sirius Black."

Harry opened his mouth but almost bit his tongue off as he snapped his mouth shut to keep his reply to himself. Though he noticed the woman's tight expression and, although he did not think she was lying, it was clear she was withholding… something.

He hoped it wasn't major, but was

"I'm a Metamorphmagus. I can change my appearance at will."  
"Wha-really? That's… pretty cool."  
"Yeah." She nodded. Tonks noted something akin to skepticism in his slightly narrowed eyes,

"You know, with the statute of secrecy and all, I can't really show you, not here anyway." She sighed, shrugging before the same smug smirk curled up her lips as she looked over lasciviously, "But I wouldn't be against giving you a little show of my… abilities, in private."

Harry blushed beside himself as he rolled his eyes and chuckled, Tonks joining in with hysteric mirth. The two falling into a light but amicable conversation regarding the band on her shirt (the woman aghast that her little charge hadn't the highest opinion of Magical Britain's biggest band) and ignoring the time that passed as they chugged and trailed out of the station. Ignoring the buildings fading into fields and trees outside of their window, as well as the people who passed by the door with their luggage and volume.

Until one group decided to interfere with them.

The compartment door slid open quickly after the yellowish-white light of the late morning sun was blocked out and a trio paused in horror at the door whilst Harry and Tonks looked over in irritation that changed to shock. Taking in the suited husband and his son with their gargantuan size and the mother/wife who stood in a dress and was thinner than a stick.

Harry questioned what he'd done to actually deserve this…

* * *

 **[1** **st** **September 1994|12:00]**

Tense was an understatement.

Vernon's eyes did not leave Harry or Tonks (who had silently moved to sit beside the boy when the family had entered the room) and his arm lay carefully on his wife's shoulder in some protective gesture. He occasionally and gently squeezed

On the subject of his wife, Harry's Aunt's gaze was either stubbornly glaring out of the window or flicking her gaze to Dudley, in a loving expression that made Harry want to clock her in the face, or (stunningly) Tonks with an expression he could not read. Almost regrettable or guilty, but there was something clearly… different from there also. She occasionally answered her husbands murmured words (walrus-esque moustache quivering with every whisper) with grunts, hums and a few nods or shakes of the head.

Dudley was the only one who was allegedly immune to the atmosphere, his eyes not leaving a bright red handheld device that was shamelessly emitting jovial music and sharp sound effects. From peering into the window that Dudley sat beside, Harry could see a red hatted character in his cousins game running and jumping across the screen at Dudley's command.

The violent screech of the trains brakes set the riders teeth on edge and shattered the silence like a hammer on glass. Tonks was thrown to the ground by a sudden and drastic decrease in speed whilst Harry and the Dursley's were able to brace themselves as the train began to rapidly slow.

"What the hell?!" Vernon's exclamation,

"Are we there already?" His son's continuation,  
"We're still in the country side so of course not." Tonks grumbled as she knelt up and looked out of the window at the trees and fields beyond the tracks.

Harry jumped up onto the seat, ignoring the starts of surprise from his extended family as he shoved a hand into his bag and yanked out his sheathed knife. He carefully clicked it into place on his free wrist before making his way to the door.

"The minute we got onto the train we set ourselves up for this." Harry said as he yanked on the door and stuck his head out cautiously into the corridor, a rolling of his wrist slipped Sirius's blade into his left hand as he tightly clutched the door handle with the other, noting several other men and women (the other applicants) copying his wary glances up and down the train as it finally shuddered and started to a halt.

"Set ourselves up? What are you talking about, boy?!" Petunia snapped at her nephew's back, Tonk's not making a comment on the woman's tone as her own quiet fear and curiosity wanted to know the answer also,

"This is a trap, isn't it?" Dudley asked carefully, hands slinking into his pockets for the knuckledusters he had hidden there as his baby blue eyes were met by his cousin's green. Tonks and his parents looked between the boys in horror and dawning realization.

"Wait… who would set this up?" Vernon's fear inundated his words,  
"The Hunter's Association." Dudley answered Tonk's empathetic question with a stony expression, Harry continuing for him,

"Thousands to tens of thousands apply for the exam every year from every corner of the world, but research shows that only a few hundred arrive at the site and then, somehow, less than ten usually pass."

"Wh-what?! That's insane!" Petunia shrieked out and her husband mutely nodded along whilst her son and nephew shook their head and sighed,

"Hunters are the pinnacle of society, the most powerful people on the planet." Dudley spoke first,

"So, it makes sense that everyone wants to be one but only a handful out of the millions can make it." Tonks picked up his thought as Harry pulled back into their compartment, "But why don't people make it to the Exam site? It's before the exam and there can't be much benefit in attacking applicants before they arrive, and it can't be practical either."

"I'm sure plenty of people want to thin out the competition to give themselves a better chance." Vernon growled out with pure hatred, eyes flitting worriedly to his wife and child as an uncomfortable knot tied in his stomach and he fearfully looked to the windows and door with tense muscles.

"If you were powerful enough to feasibly slaughter so many of the applicants then you would just wait until reaching the exam."  
"What are you blathering about, boy?! How does that even make sense?"  
"You are granted some of the benefits of licensed Hunters whilst you take the exam, one being that killing the fellow applicants isn't punishable by law." Harry turned to him with cold eyes, "It's illegal to do it outside of the exam site, so there is no benefit for doing so. If you are powerful enough or confident enough to try and cull the other applicants to improve your chances, then you'd wait until the time of the exam where it's legal."

Blood became ice in Tonks and Dudley's veins at that statement whilst all of them paled at Harry's words,

"No, the Hunter Association can't possibly screen and examine the flood of all the applicants who make their way to them, so, from what I've read, they outsource some of that to the companies and people who bring the applicants to the continent or country in question." Harry's explanation came with a sinister air as he and the others turned their attention to the outside and saw the oddest of sights. Lines and lines of people in top hats and tails, faces covered by blank white masks lined either side of the tracks for as far as the eye could see. Tonks's hand instinctively itched towards her concealed wand at the ominous sight whilst the Dursley's quivered at the sight as they looked out at the display as they slowed to a halt before them.

"The train conductor and the other staff members will be examining us on the behalf of the Hunter Association." Harry explained as he rolled back his shoulders and stepped out into the corridor as the doors to their train cars hissed open and crisp Autumn wind flooded in and figures began to board as the applicants shouted and demanded answers fearfully. He turned his attention briefly back into the compartment with a grave tone, though a smirk began to twitch up his lips and a light of glee exploded into life in his eyes, "As soon as we got onto this train, the Hunter's Exam started…"

.

* * *

.

 _-Chapter End-_

[Authors Note]

 _ **So, sorry this took a while and I apologise if the quality is a bit… abominable. But I decided that I needed to just get this chapter done.**_

 _ **Thought I'd put the more personal thanks and gratitude down here at the bottom because I get the impression that people would prefer we get into the chapters sooner. If you'd prefer them back at the top, feel free to say and I'll put them back up there.**_

 _ **To Spartan3090, you're welcome. It's nice to see you here as well, thanks for the support.**_

 _ **To SandSasori: thank you for that, I do worry a bit about grammar but thanks a lot. I hope you continue to enjoy.**_

 _ **To Lazymanjones96: thank you, I hope you keep finding it interesting going forward.**_

 _ **To Agent Frank Underwood: Thanks for the review, I love the HXH fanbase (**_ _as well as the show obviously :P_ _ **) and I'm looking forward to continuing.**_

 _ **To Link: I'm glad you enjoyed it and I'm planning on continuing every now and then (**_ _I can't speak Spanish so sorry for replying in English_ _ **)**_

 _ **To Villain Behind Glasses: I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter and hope you enjoyed this one.**_

 _ **To Basket in a Nutcase: Heh ;-]**_

 _ **To Ranmaleopard: Hope you look forward to lots more.**_

 _ **And to the Guest reviewer, thank you. I'm enjoying writing it.**_

 _ **See you next time x**_


	3. Chapter 3

_-Chapter Start-_

 ** _HunterXPotter_**

 ** _Chapter 3: A Little Tale Not Told_**

 **[1** **st** **August 1981|13:07]**

"Don't worry! The Aurors are here!" A cry from the living room that had a quartet of adults chuckling to themselves as they sat around a high, wooden kitchen table. Nursing still steaming cups of tea (kept in this state with the occasional swishes of the wand roughly an hour after they'd taken their seats and started talking) as they shared glances between themselves and the fifth, a babbling infant ever so excited in his highchair. The green-eyed child with the fluffy, messy mass of black curls atop his head squealed and clapped his meaty hands as he desperately tried to turn in his seat to look at the door.

She presented herself in the there with her dark brown hair and hazel eyes, a black and green blanket tied firmly around her neck like a cape. A ruler firmly in her hand in place of a wand in the four-year-olds tiny, tight grasp with her other hand planted on her waist, stood like a superhero in the kitchen doorway as the room paused at her antics.

"Oh no! It's that darn Auror, Nymphadora Tonks!" One of the guests declared mirthfully, pushing his round spectacles up his nose and rubbed a hand through his viciously scruffy hair as his red head wife cast him a mirth filled, sidelong glance,

"Curse you, Nymphadora!" Her mother Andromeda, flicking some of her waist length onyx hair over her shoulder as she did a much better job of her mousy haired husband to keep a serious expression as she played along,

"Don't call me that, criminal!" she jabbed her ruler at her mother with a furious expression, her hair and eyes flaring a glorious orange before she folded her arms and glared, "That's Auror Tonks to you."

The rooms occupants stifled laughter, first at the young girl then at the baby boy, who had slammed his hands over his mouth to replicate his bright-eyed mother. Glittering emerald eyes focussed on her babies young and wider replica's as little Nymphadora sidled up alongside her son and her laughter (hidden behind her hand) increased, accompanied by a loving smile at the two's brief interactions. Her baby boy reaching out excitedly for the girl who smiled brightly and gently squeezed his grasping hands.

"Hand over the hostage." She ordered, pointing her ruler/wand at the woman across from her before flushing and gently adding, "Please?"

She snorted, and her parents shook their heads,

"As long as you promise you'll be careful with him, _Auror Tonks_." She said seriously, her eyes boring into the girls. Dropping the act for a second, little Nymphadora nodded and offered a grateful smile as her unofficial Auntie rose from her seat and lifted up her baby. She planted a wet kiss on his chubby cheek before gently moving her into the girl's waiting grasp,

"Do-oa!" he cheered as he was settled into her arms, reaching out his hands and snagging several locks of her hair and pulling. She winced slightly at the sharp yanks but smiled down adoringly, her hair shifting away from orange to black and her eyes to green, a change the one in her arms approved of with a wordless cheer and a mess of bright babbling.

"You're safe now, you have been rescued." She declared proudly, puffing out her chest with some shifting and securing of the baby in her arms, all whilst his parents watched warily (but affectionately) from the side lines.

The baby blew a fat raspberry in the face of his rescuer as gratitude.

Nymphadora giggled away as she ran off with little baby Harry, chattering and posturing all the way out of the kitchen and the next room as she made her way upstairs, so they could play in the castle her dad had conjured in the play room.

.

* * *

.

 **[3** **rd** **September 1984|10:15]**

Her first real day of Hogwarts found Hufflepuff 1st year, Nymphadora Tonks, sat wondering why the staircase to the Headmasters office was so goddamn frosty. She registered that it was September and the Scottish weather was taking the appropriate nosedive into the negative end of the thermometer, but really?!

She couldn't complain too much, the timetable said that she had Potions first thing and, well… Professor Snape's reputation really preceded him.

She had been sitting at the table roughly an hour and a half prior, polishing up her breakfast and looking through her timetable and book bag. Occasionally she would find herself watching, with a bit of amusement, Charlie Weasley at the Gryffindor table rant away at a few of the other students about the strength of dragons. Wondering if he was self-aware of the fact that he was an absoloute nerd.

Then mum and dad had arrived…

 **[3** **rd** **September 1984|08:39]**

 _"What's going on?" She asked when her mother jerked her head in an indication for her to stand._

 _"We're just going to have a word with Dumbledore." Her dad explained gently, his words offering reassurance whilst her mother's silence and barely veiled aggression only made her feel tense, "We're going to talk to him about Harry. We wanted to see if you're ok with coming with us?"_

 _Her nod was slow as she noticed her mother's eyes narrow harshly and followed the movement of the blue and green robed Headmaster who rubbed his waist length beard as he held her mother's gaze._

 **[3** **rd** **September 1984|10:15]**

Her parents were pestering Dumbledore again, demanding to know why little Harry wasn't living with them like he should be. And Tonks could not blame them ONE BIT, she wanted little Harry back too. Nothing but fond memories of the green-eyed baby who would squeal in delight when she changed the colour of her hair.

"You've palmed us off for three years, Dumbledore. Spitting in the face of the very people you claimed to have called friends." The low growl of her father Ted rolled under the door as he addressed the schools Headmaster, at volume. His daughter, shifting uncomfortably on the cold stone steps and marvelling at the numbness she was feeling in her lower cheeks,

"I believe that Harry is safest and happiest where he is now."

"Implying you don't trust his own godparents to keep him safe?" Her mother, a voice like ice to her father's fiery rage. Tonks knew which scared her most and doubted that even the man lauded as the second coming of Merlin could sit there without an ounce of fear.

 _'Mum used to be a Black after all.'_ Tonks mused to herself. Planting her elbows onto her knees and lengthening her bangs so as to be able to see them clearly; she twirled a few locks between her fingers and cycling its colour through the colours of the rainbow as the adults kept talking.

"Far from it, Andromeda." Dumbledore's quick reply, Tonks smirked a little, "Harry is being raised somewhere free of any responsibilities and any potential strife. I trust that Harry is being cared for and enjoying life. It would be the height of unnecessary to move him from where he is now for your whim."

Tonks turned her head and scowled at the headmaster's door on hearing that, unknowingly mirroring her mother's expression whilst her father vibrated in fury,

"Our whims?!" Ted Tonks growled through clearly gritted teeth,

"Ted." A silk soft tone, Andromeda's words soothing the storm of her spouse before addressing the Headmaster again, "You won't tell us who has him, neither will you tell us where he is. Clearly you don't want us to have custody, but can we not just visit? You're already disrupting what James and Lily wanted for their baby by not leaving him with us, let us compromise."

The tension hung thick and heavy, the glares held between the party almost deafening in the silence. A silence Dumbledore took his time breaking.  
"Don't think me a fool, Andromeda." His words were low, had Tonks not made her ears sensitive enough to hear them she might not have heard through the door and the distance, "I am certain you would attempt to interfere and put young Harry through much turmoil and risk his safety."  
"Respectfully, Headmaster, bollocks." Ted snapped, Tonks could just feel the scorn in his words and expression,

"You know you haven't heard the last of this Dumbledore." There was a scrape of chair legs on a hard floor, Tonks rising to her feet herself as her mother continued her closing jabs, "But we are done doing things your way, Albus Dumbledore…"

.

* * *

.

 **[4** **th** **September 1985|18:53]**

The gavel fell, the blow echoed harshly throughout the room. Murmurs of wizards and witches stopping abruptly at the sound; Madam Bones briefly adjusted the gold ringed monocle over her eye after gaining the silence she had sought.

Once again, Tonks was missing the first day of Hogwarts. Once again, the reason for her absence was her parents taking her out of school for something 'Harry-Related'. But this instance differed from the one from the previous year, differing as she was aware in advance that she would be out of school on day one. She was sat in the viewing gallery beside her father and a few members of the assembled press (including the panting, curly haired Rita Skeeter, who's acid green quill flew across the parchment at a speed that defied reason), looking down after having watched the fancy robed Wizagmot members file in and return to her seat, as well as her mother and a few of the other witnesses return to their designated box to the right of the raised podium the Head of the DMLE stood upon,

"Aurors, the defendant may re-enter the chamber..."

The ancient black doors to the equally dim and dark Courtroom Ten slid open, unassisted, at Madam Bones loud instruction. The entry of a trio (the defendant flanked on either side by red robed, stern faced Aurors) unleashed another barrage of mutters and whispers amongst the onlookers. This time it took two sharp raps of the gavel to regain order in the room, a hard look from hazel eyes about the room seemed to quell any further dissent before Madam Bones turned them to the man at the center of all the attention.

The defendant, Albus Dumbledore.

"Esteemed ladies and lords of the jury, I welcome you back to this chamber and thank you all for the promptness of your decision making." Bones' opening statement went as such and was met with a few smatterings of nods and murmurs and harsh scratchings of quills. Tonks didn't understand how the nearly four hours the lords and ladies of the Wizagmot had taken could be considered 'prompt', and her father's attempt to appease her by telling her that the situation was 'delicate' and 'complicated' due to the politics surrounding the old man didn't fulfil its intended purpose.

"For the clarification of the court, the defendant stands accused of multiple counts of criminal negligence, perjury, bribery, conspiracy and obstruction of justice." Bones declared to the room, who nodded along. Muttered words briefly washed over the room before she continued and Tonks saw the grey haired attorney of Dumbledore to stand to make a further comment, "We will be receiving no further comments from the defence or prosecution at this time, I now only require the jury's verdict."  
Visibly outraged at the dismissal (delivered without even looking in his direction), he slumped in his seat. Securing her monocle over her eye, Madam Bones slammed the gavel down once again as the press in the viewing stand (beside where Tonks sat) muttered excitedly at the exchange,

"What a time to be alive." Was the wanton whisper of Skeeter that rang through Tonks' head as she grinned a manic toothy smile in the direction of the court room, Tonks' brown eyes (darkening a bit as she peered over before lightening after she looked away) watched her in undisguised disgust.

"I inquire after your verdict." Bones' voice cut through and silenced growing murmurs as a single lord rose to the call. Draped in onyx robes so dark they seemed to absorb the flickering lamp light of the shadowy courtroom, that contrasted remarkably with his short silver hair and unnervingly vibrant orange eyes. Tonks' own shifted to replicate them curiously as his mouth opened and the atmosphere reached its heavy crescendo,

"On the behalf of my esteemed peers and in the name of the Wizagmot. I, Lord Baldwin Addison Ogden do declare Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, guilty of all charges."

Tonks would later liken the reaction to the dropping of a bomb…

Camera flashes and noise swelled up in greeting to the verdict, leaving Nymphadora to wince and glare as chaos erupted at the outrageous verdict. Subjected to the merciless mayhem and noise for an everlasting, agonising span of a few seconds before her father made moves to get her out of the room. Bundling her up and guiding her out with a gentle hand to her back.

"Albus Dumbledore, a convicted criminal?! What a rush!" Skeeter's grating staccato rang over the noise as she bellowed out her disbelief, "No more Hogwarts, no more Wizagmot and there's no way he'll be in the ICW after this."

The glee she delivered her words with was matched to varying degrees by the other members of the jabbering press that she eventually got lost in as the doors to the observation booth snapped shut behind Tonks and her father.

.

* * *

.

 **[3** **rd** **January 1994| 11:45]**

She knew better than to let herself slip here.

Back to the door of the Ministers office, the black door with its golden plaque and doorknob contrasting surprisingly well with the rich crimson carpet and the dark walls of the corridor on the 100th floor of the Ministry of Magic. The top floor of the building, the closest to the surface of the entire space, occupied by a single room, the one she had just been dismissed from after her lengthy, condescending mission briefing.

 **[3rd January 1994| 10:30]**

 _"What does HE want with me of all people?" Tonks' incredulity seemed to be matched by the messenger_

 _His own lips curled up into a soft pout of confusion to himself as he shook his head and shrugged,_

 _"I think even Bones has given up on trying to understand what that man- AHH!"_

 _They both started and lunged for their wands after a harsh strike to the back of Head Auror Scrimgeour's legs and a roar of,_

 _"CONSTANT VIGILANCE!"_

 _Everything in the bustling, cubicle stuffed space ground to a halt at the volume (on a level that suggested a_ _ **Sonorus**_ _) while, on pure instinct, the two Aurors levelled their wands at their_

 _"Sweet Merlin, Moody!" Tonks shrieked after her eyes found the grizzled face of her former mentor and hero of the Auror corp. The man snapped his thick walking stick on the hard floor of the office and ignored the miffed expressions of the people he had scared and the wide-eyed admiration of everyone else,_

 _"The Ministry got infiltrated during the war, Auror Tonks. Why would you be relaxing here of all places?" The man sneered, his electric blue whizzing about in all directions whilst his brown eye bore into hers aggressively until he was called over by Madam Bones and he stomped off in a huff._

 _"You should head up." A gruff suggestion/order from Scrigemour that doubled as a valediction as he walked away. Absently, Tonks hummed an agreeable response and moved from her desk and headed to the lift._

 **[3rd January 1994| 11:45]**

"Ah, Auror Tonks. Thank you for your promptness."

"No problem, Minister." The pink haired woman responded curtly, a gentle smile curled up on his lips as a hot feeling or loathing writhed in her stomach.

"I got a… interesting message from dear Minerva back at Hogwarts."

"Concerning me, sir?"  
"Concerning your godbrother actually, Auror Tonks." His eyes glittered in something akin to mirth as she perked up and a crack appeared in her abrasive (almost hostile) demeanour, "It would appear that he does not intend to return to Hogwarts next September. With the likes of Sirius Black on the loose, I hardly think him being outside of the safety of the castle would be wise."

"It's not like I hold any sway over his decisions. What with Harry growing up away from my family and all."

A pregnant, openly aggressive, pause hung in the air before the Minister carelessly scratched his waist length beard and continued speaking,

"Be that as it may, I will still be requiring your assistance."  
"I don't think a fourth-year-to-be will appreciate being strong-armed in to going back to school." Tonks shrugged, nose upturned briefly before a smirk upturned a corner of her lips, "Unless you're expecting me to use my talents to… persuade a 14-year-old boy?"

A frown of disappointment one would expect from a disgruntled grandparent settled onto the face of the Minister of Magic, Tonks was unrepentant,

"If you are ready to act with some maturity, Nymphadora, I will happily explain your assignment to you." He said lowly and did not openly take satisfaction in watching the young lady bristle, "To put it simply, you will be acting as young Harry's bodyguard. He is attempting an exam on the continent that is known internationally for its high mortality rate. You are to ensure he succeeds and survives."

A thick brown folder on the Ministers desk was slid forward across the black desk,

"You are still relatively new to the Corps and an assignment of this importance would normally be assigned to more experienced Aurors. I consider this a favour to you and your family." A twinkle of light burst into being in his sapphire eyes and it was all she could do to stop her from striking the grandfatherly smile off of his smug, wrinkled face. Instead she bowed her head and mumbled some thanks to the man as she accepted a folder full of parchment and few finer details of her mission. Bowing her head dutifully before exiting the room.

She knew FAR better than to let her emotions slip in a place where it was not necessarily safe to do so. But she didn't give a damn.

Thus, Nymphadora glared with unrestrained loathing at the plaque on the door as the lift doors slowly closed. A quiet snarl of hatred rippling past her lips at the words, **_'Minister of Magic: Albus Dumbledore'_** as the lift doors snapped shut.

 _-Chapter End-_


End file.
